


Gravity

by Egg_Koji413



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: AU Technology, AU Warrior of Light, Angst, Author Novelization, Dark, Depression, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Excessive Drinking, Explicit Language, F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Fictional Religion & Theology, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Identity, MSQ Spoilers, Major Illness, Non-Canonical Violence, Original Character Death(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Post-Modern Girl on Hydaelyn, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Science Fiction, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Starting from ARR, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Tags May Change, Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, War, longfic, warfare
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:41:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25243342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Egg_Koji413/pseuds/Egg_Koji413
Summary: Dr. Daniella Rhys Ortega is a member of The ESE Orion, one of The Federation's best exploration spaceships. Responding to a distress signal, she awakens on a distant planet. Surrounded by a race of aliens that frighteningly resemble the Sentinels; a tall, long-eared race who for millennia had tormented the races of the Federation.  Battered and disoriented, Daniella must bury years of hatred and mistrust in order to find her missing crew.A longfic in the making starting from ARR up to 5.2.
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light, Scions of the Seventh Dawn & Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Warrior of Light/Original character
Comments: 27
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Square Enix owns all legal rights to Final Fantasy XIV, all other Final Fantasy titles, etc.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hydaelyn finds her Champion

* * *

"Hear…”

Disorientation. The first sign something wasn't right. Doctor Daniella Ortega couldn’t remember the last few hours let alone the last few seconds. But that voice...

Daniella’s eyes fluttered open as it filled her mind. The sound soft and clear even over the near-deafening ringing in the doctor’s ears. Ringing followed by a throbbing trainwreck of a headache. Her body felt weak and sore, but not surprisingly not heavy. Not like she usually got after an exhausting mission. Instead, she felt lighter. Too light-weight; almost floating. Unless Lum decided to be an ass and switch on zero-g again. 

She blinked a few times getting a better grasp of her surroundings and sucked back the scream in her lungs when she saw she was in fact floating. Except, this time it wasn't because the ship's gravity had been altered.

Daniella floated exposed and unprotected in open space. 

Her hands shot up to cover her mouth and nose. Not that it would do much; by all accounts, she should have frozen to death the instant her body hit the space atmosphere. She had no suit on, only a medical uniform; white and light gray with the Elysium crest on her breast pocket. Thankfully, she had her BioTech wrist device. But even that offered no protection; a supercomputer, yes and a weapon-albeit a pathetic one, but nothing useful for her situation. Yet when she checked herself over, her fingers weren’t black with frostbite nor had her toes snapped off; they were still very much warm in her slip-on shoes. 

_Okay-okay, keep your shit together Ortega,_ she told herself, _you're alive, for now._ If she was still alive after those last few seconds, would breathing in this atmosphere kill her? In a blind leap of faith, Daniella took a slow inhale through her nose. _Oxygen?_

Her eyes followed the wisps of blue and green atmospheric gases dancing around starlight. Yellow and white distant stars littered every angle surrounding her. Was this a memory from a Paragon's past life? It’d be the only explanation for why it felt so empty. There were no planets, no ships, not even a warp gate.

 _Creator_ , she called out in her thoughts hoping to reach her deity through her BioTech. If this was a memory sent by them, what had she done to trigger it? She had no comm call or message that any of the other Paragons in her unit had one.

A sudden beam of light blinded her left peripheral. She raised her hand and turned towards it. Through the gaps between her fingers, she squinted to keep from being blinded by the light. As if it knew it was far too bright, the light dimmed allowing her to see more clearly. A massive star loomed in front of her. She choked on the gasp that escaped from her trembling lips. Her hand slumped down to her side. _Is that… a Sun?_

“Creator!?” she heard herself shout yet she hadn’t opened her mouth. Not an unusual occurrence, if this was a memory.

"Hear…feel…," the voice spoke again. 

“Y-you’re not the Creator-who are you!?” Daniella demanded. 

The ball of light bobbed; brightening and dimming with every movement almost as if it were a set of lungs filling and emptying with a steady breath. She watched it for a while. The only two objects in this time and space. It made no move to grow closer nor did it disappear from her. If anything, it beckoned her. 

“Are you sentient?” she asked. This wasn’t a form her Creator used before and it didn’t match any of the known forms of the other Creators of her galaxy. Unless-

“Are you a Sentinel!?”

Daniella snarled as a wave of nauseating anger swirled in the pit of her belly. Had they captured her crew? Was this some new torture method they developed? If they knew she was a Paragon, this could be a method of breaking her for secrets. At best, the Sentinels might have only taken her and used the rest of the crew as ransom against the Federation. 

An insulting thought. There was no point in hoping for an outcome she knew wouldn't happen. Sentinels were… _inhuman_. Maybe they decided to be merciful to the “lesser species” and killed the crew off quickly; they’d be of no use except as fodder for their war machines. 

Except for _Jordan_ …

Jordan they could use against her. Jordan they could bend and break. 

Daniella wiped his name from her lips as quickly as he appeared in her thoughts. She wouldn’t give the Sentinels that pleasure. 

_Let them break me, I die as a Paragon!_

Her throat stung as all the moisture disappeared. Her scalp pricked and tingled. Despite the flurry of rage building within her, she kept her breathing controlled. She braced herself as the light shined brighter and hovered closer to her. 

From it came emotions that pierced and swelled in her heart. Her fear and anger vanished, replaced by understanding from the Creator. Patience and guidance from her parents. Order and justice from the Paragons. Friendship and protection from The ESE Orion. Love and acceptance from-

Daniella blinked back her tears and extended a trembling hand towards it. Her face dropped to the open space below her. Whatever the light was she wanted to be near it, but if she moved would she fall forever? 

Consciously or not, she descended. The lapse of gravity slowed her fall. After a few seconds, her feet lightly touched a solid surface and after a heartbeat, she took a careful step forward. The light stayed in its position until just shy from her reach then it shot up behind her. 

"Hear… feel… think…", it echoed.

"Where am I-why am I not on The Orion? Did something happen?" she asked in a daze as she turned. The light bobbed again, waiting for her to follow.

Behind her, a hiss cracked like an oxygen leak of a damaged cruiser. A dark mist coiled against the pure atmosphere. It grew larger then disappeared as a black-robed figure stepped out; their face covered by the shadow of their hood. Energy radiated from their body; dark and powerful magic, not unlike a Sentinel...

From the light came fear. 

Daniella braced herself inhaling deeply to tap into her energy. Lines of dusky purple light streaked across her skin like electrical wiring. Her nervites were activating; a blessed technology from the Creator that marked her as a Paragon. Her people had no magic to counter the Sentinels’ natural abilities. This was her Creator's solution to their atrocities against mankind. 

But it wouldn’t be enough. Her active nervites would barely hold up a barrier in her condition. The weapon from her BioTech was a decent backup though. Sure it was shorter than the standard combat blades, but it was better than nothing. Sentinel or not, she wasn’t about to go down without a fight.

Suddenly, light surrounded her feet. Colors swirled and danced like flames. The blaze engulfed her before she had a chance to scream. 

Daniella’s body changed; heavier, sturdier. The familiar sound of metallic pieces clicking and snapping into place sent a wave of giddy violence down to her toes. When the flames died, she emerged fully dressed in an Exosuit; the nano-infused latex under armor hugged her body while the hybrid silicone-metallic plates protected her limbs and vital organs. The suit’s UI synced with the modules along her spine, recognizing them instantly; the sensors lining the under-suit and armor plating lit up with nervites. The sharing of nervite and nano-tech created a symbiotic relationship, allowing a Paragon abilities beyond their own capabilities. 

With the rush of adrenaline and no small amount of cockiness, she tapped deep into her energy. As the dark figure charged up a hidden power, she flicked her left wrist, and with a sharp hum, the white plasma blade descended. Then the dark mage and the Paragon lunged for each other.

* * *

Daniella awoke with a hiss. Her throat cracked. Every inch of her body screamed. Sore. Heavy. She lifted her fists to her eyes and rubbed the pain away. Embarrassing memories of her time as a neophyte in training resurfaced as this pain mimicked lessons. Except back then she was thrashed by Elder Paragons for her lack of restraint. She let her arms flop back down against the hard surface she laid on. One arm, she noticed, felt considerably lighter than the other. 

She raised her left wrist to find it naked. No Biotech. “Oh for Creator’s sake, Lum…”, she grumbled. 

While all Zinorphs were naturally curious, her crewmate Lum took it to the most annoying level possible. She guessed he took it to play some shitty prank on her. _Good luck, idiot._ After the first few times of handing it over and believing he was innocently curious about it, she programmed some minor security measures to deter him from any future shenanigans. Ha, hope you enjoy the zap, water breather.

 _Alright, focus Ortega,_ she told herself then mentally ran through her condition.

Headache, nausea, stiffness, dehydration, fatigue… the list went on. Without the BioTech, she wouldn’t have an accurate diagnosis of her health. _Well, the stiffness might be this crappy cot._ Her fingers ran over the rough canvas. She grumbled internally, dreading the fact that their mission must have gotten them stranded on yet another planet with another group of aliens with no modern technology who’s village they were very likely going to have to save… again... for the third time-technically fourth, but she wasn’t part of the crew for the first time. Daniella breathed steadily through her nose. She continued mentally checking over her injuries.

_Left leg… sore. Right leg-_

“Shit!” She hissed as she tried to bend her leg up. The tent flap opened.

“Pray miss, you must needs rest,” a young human male said in strong accented Elysian. He tried to gently ease her back down.

“I must- _what_?”

“Your wounds have yet to heal and I fear the Wood Wailers wish to be off shortly.”

“Wood Wailer a local tribe? And why are you talking like that, you lose a bet or something?” 

“The... Wood Wailers are the guardsmen, mistress… I-”

The poor kid looked as confused as the doctor felt. She sat up on her elbows and studied him over. Every sentient creature in the galaxy knew humans came from Elysium. The only reason they settled on other planets was for farming colonies or Federation bases. 

_Hm, he might be a Greenie_ , she thought. 

Judging by his clothes, Daniella assumed the young man came from a poor farming family and volunteered at a base to earn some units. He wore a dust-covered linen shirt and vomit green slacks. Those might be actual vomit stains though. A pair of flimsy leather sandals wrapped around his feet but the straps exposed dirt-covered toes. 

She, on the other hand, wore nothing more than the cotton-spandex shorts and tank top she always slept in. Which normally wouldn’t be an issue except that hers were caked in dried blood and dirt. Her exposed skin was covered in cuts and bruises. The bandages wrapped around her right leg looked like they hadn’t been changed in days. The fact that she was wrapped in bandages at all was alarming.   
Was this medical site in disarray? Not an issue for her, but she’d have to let her captain know if the supervising physician here needed to pull her from her crew for a few days. It wouldn’t be the first time she’s helped a med site and she didn’t mind; nothing brought her greater joy than medicine. Well, maybe the pride that beamed from the Creator when she did. Besides, it was part of her oath to ensure she left a planet having given every ounce of her medical prowess and aid too.

But to call this a Federation medical site was an insult. It took all of her mother’s patience and Creator’s wisdom to keep from chewing the poor kid out. 

It was nothing more than a tent-not that the Federation didn’t use tents, they were much, much better. There was barely enough room for the two of them and her nose burned from whatever herbs the kid fiddled with. The tent had no floor. Straight dirt. Even the air was gross; thick and damp with mold. The pungent stench of mud burned her nostrils. Stains, dried blood most likely, streaked across one side of the tent canvas. A spread of junk covered bottles sat cluttered on top of a wooden crate near the opening of the tent. A clay bowl full of red cloudy water and dirty bandages sat on a worn side table by her feet. 

That’s it. Nothing else.

“This clinic is disgusting, why wasn’t I placed in a Vite Chamber?” she asked.

“B-beg pardon?”

“A Vite Chamber-every med site has one. Where are the drones? Monitors? IVs?” Daniella questioned, the poor kid shaking his head at each word. “Seriously, there isn’t even a floor! Whoever’s in charge of this clinic isn’t keeping to code. Which base is this?”

“B-base? This is Camp Tranquil miss. There are no bases here-unless you mean the castra where you are from-well the Wood Wailers believe you to be Garlean on account of the vessel they pulled you from-but never have I ever witnessed an airship as they described...”

The young man stuttered and fumbled over his words; most of it gibberish. Fine then, she would have to find the supervising physician herself. But not being put in a chamber to replenish her nervite levels and heal, she had no choice but to tap into her nervite reserves to heal her injuries herself. The young man stumbled backward, eyes as wide as an owl as her tech sealed cuts and erased bruises within seconds. She unwrapped the bandage around her leg exposing a gnarly dark gash under her calf. Her muscle fibers stretched and fused back together as the nervites regenerate the tissue cells, then her skin sealed the wound leaving no scar behind. 

Daniella swung her legs over the side of the cot. “Who’s your supervisor?”

“My what,” he stuttered, taking another step back.

_Yep, definitely a Greenie._

She took a deep breath, mentally chanting the Creator’s wisdom and tried again, her voice soft. “Who is the doctor overseeing the clinic? You must have met him during the orientation.”

He shook his head again. She blinked and curled a brow.

“Okay… well, where’s the rest of my crew?”

“They said you were the only one the Wood Wailers found. They didn’t know how to enter the ship and you lay on the ground alone and unconscious.”

“My captain?” Her voice was barely a whisper. A sharp chill ran down her back. Daniella pinched the bridge of her nose then hopped off the cot. She wobbled for a second then and brushed past him out of the tent.

“No wait,” he called after her.

The “camp” was little more than a few tents and crates fenced in by short wooden railings. Off to one side of the camp stood a massive glowing crystal pylon with a large bronze ring and several metal embellishments. Wooden bridges split to other smaller land masses; one with a single watchtower. 

_No comm towers. No auto-turrets. This camp couldn't even fend off a mouse!_

A very tall, armed guard marched up behind her and shouted, “Hold prisoner!”

“Prisoner?” Daniella whipped around to face the voice. 

Her heart froze as her eyes traveled up, taking in dark leather armor wrapped around a terrifying height. His face was covered by a mask of the same material; the eye slits too dark to see his irises. Her wide-eyed stare settled on his very long and pointed ears.

“SENTINEL!”

On instinct, her nervites activated. With a growl, Daniella threw out her hands and pushed at the gravity around the Sentinel, flinging him backward and crashing against the fence. More Sentinels charged at her. She pushed and pulled in every direction. Some went straight up into the air and landed with an audible crunch. She lunged for a spear one dropped. 

“No stop!” shrieked the young man.

She snapped her wild scowl to him. He cowered with a few other humans under a collapsing awning. The Paragon placed herself between them and the Sentinels who circled and crept closer. 

“Get the Void out of here!” she barked over her shoulder. Slow steps crunched the ground behind her.

Like a cobra, she whipped around bringing the spear high over her head. A boy in a white robe with horns sticking out of his head raised his hand to her face.

“Sleep,” he whispered. Smoky purple light emerged from his palm and circled her head. 

“The fu-,” Daniella gasped then collapsed to the ground.

* * *

_At a Federal Intergalactic Station, soldiers filled up an assembly hall for the command's debriefing. Species from across the Federation mixed and mingled with different crews as they awaited for the hologram to appear. Humans and humanoids settled into their seats or stood when all the seats were taken as a large hologram displayed the Elysian vice-admiral in the center of the room. He was an older gentleman with a sterned wrinkled face and broad features. Rows of lapels and medals lined the majority of his right shoulder pad. After a few formalities, the veteran addressed the current on-going issue._

_“Recent reports from the Tressith suggest the Sentinels have made greater progress on the Starkiller project, allowing for an increase in the trajectory of the weapon's photon missiles,” the hologram spoke, “Working with Federation intelligence, our allies believe it’s only a matter of time before the weapon will reach its full potential. The Sentinels have already begun their tests, destroying two Tressith colonies in the process. The Federation has sent out orders for immediate evacuations of all colonies at the edge of the Delta Hyperion Galaxy.”_

_Doctor Daniella Ortega sat with the rest of her crew, chewing on the inside of her lip. Her eyes avoided looking directly at the hologram. Instead, they were focused on The Orion’s commander; the young Captain Hoshino. He was a valiant Elysian officer with several great feats on his record, but the majority of Federation command often overlooked him and his crew._

_That is, only the Elysian vice-admiral did._

_Captain Hoshino's hands balled on his knees; the muscles of his strong jaw twitched as he listened to the vice-admiral continue. Daniella glanced at his tense gaze. His face was hard as he shot up at attention when the hologram called for the captains._

_“The Tressith have requested additional aid in relocating their colony populations,” the hologram continued, “Captain Hoshino, the Orion will not be needed for this mission. Return to your previous assignment.”_

_“Sir, with all due respect The Orion has had more dealings with the Tressith than any other Federation ship,” the young captain protested._

_Jordan, don’t, Daniella cautioned in her thoughts._

_“And the Federation is grateful for the opportunities your crew has presented to us in working with them. However, they requested aid for the evacuation of which The Orion is ill-equipped to handle.”_

_“Sir-”_

_“Captain!,” the hologram boomed, “You and your crew will return to the previous assignment, is that clear?”_

_Captain Hoshino’s face turned to stone. He saluted then turned out of the assembly hall, the rest of his crew following. Daniella trailed behind them as the captain took wide, heavy steps through the halls towards the docking bay. His knuckles turned white as he held them tightly behind his back; tense even when talking to his co-pilot._

_This was the third time Jordan had spoken out about taking on a new mission. Their crew was stuck with patrol missions around the colony sectors; not the grand expeditions they dealt with in the past._

_Why didn’t you stay quiet, she sighed internally, why do you always have to look for trouble huh?_

_“Well that was disappointing,” a crewmate asked from her side. The Zinorph’s dual-tone voice bubbled as the water device around their neck rubbed against their vocal cords. Their mandibles clicked as they chuckled, “I expected a poorly scripted human drama!”_

_“I’m the doctor, it’s not my place to argue military policy,” she said dryly._

_“Oh, just the doctor huh? Sure, let’s completely overlook the years of training you went through to become an absolute Sentinel killing machine.”_

_Daniella bit her bottom lip to keep the smirk there from getting any bigger. “Paragons don’t brag about their achievements. We protect Elysium and the Federation, nothing more.”_

_“Eh, still, what’s the point of having the title if you can’t toss it around now and then. It’d be the first time I’d see the vice-admiral outgunned.”_

_“Humility, honor, and sacrifice.” Her heart swelled with pride to say the tenets out loud. The two turned down a few corridors and finally entered the docking bay where their ship awaited. “Besides, I’m sure the vice-admiral had his reasons.”_

_The Zinorph hummed, “Like the fact that the captain is sleeping with his daughter?” They cackled again._

_Daniella flinched and huffed. “We aren’t… together right now.”_

_“If you say so,” they said, “but I did hear the strangest sounds a few nights ago near med bay. Could’ve sworn I heard a struggle. Thought we were being boarded, didn’t think some of us were-”_

_“You’re an ass, Lum.”_

_“But you love me!”_

_“Not enough to not make a chowder out of you,” she half grumbled, “don’t make me flush your eggs into space.”_

_“Do it! I don’t want the little shits, my partner got rid of fifty the other day!”_

_“That’s awful!”_

_Lum laughed harder, their mandibles clicking playfully as they and the doctor followed the rest of their crew up The Orion’s boarding ramp. The captain remained stoic as the ship left the station._

_“Do you need anything from me, Captain?” Daniella asked once it was safe to freely move around the ship._

_He didn’t turn to face her. “No.”_

_Her breath hitched to the sound of his clipped tone. She knew better than to push him; best leave it to his co-pilot or Lum. Daniella saluted his back and turned to the med bay, avoiding Lum’s slow worried clicks as she passed his navigation post._

_That night the captain didn’t join the crew for dinner. Lum tried to probe her for information, but she didn’t say a word. She slipped the empty aluminum tray into its clean up compartment then went for a shower in her suite. The hot water only encouraged her troubled thoughts, so she rushed and changed into her sleep clothes._

_Daniella knew if she went to bed now, she’d toss and turn and end up getting minimal sleep. Checking her messages might clear her mind. She sat down at an empty desk near her bed and tapped the dark glass at the center. A transparent holographic screen appeared. Her fingers gracefully swiped through messages: some from her Paragon comrades, a few from Lum-a recent one she ignored-and several from other command fleets offering her a spot on their medical teams. She spent a few hours reading them over._

_Guilt, shame, and unease filled her heart._

_She had been planning to transfer to another fleet for a few months now. A decision encouraged by her father who even sent his own letters of recommendation to the best fleets in the galaxy. It only made her feel worse. Having fleets compete for her, a Paragon, to join their ship was an honor and flattering; every fleet was better off with one and she had dedicated her life to the order. But having her father use her status along his rank was infuriating._

_Him doing so because he wanted her and Jordan separated crushed her soul._ _And it wasn’t because of their differences in rank; if anything she outranked them all as a Paragon._ _No... it was only because it was Jordan._

_He was there for me when you weren't, she spat internally, go ask the Creator; they’re the witness, they know everything!_

_She paused and sucked back her anger. There was no point in working herself up, the Creator would be alarmed._ _She mentally recited her Paragon vows but even that wasn’t enough to calm her. She buried her face in her hands wanting to drown in a scream when a knock on the metal door reeled her in. Swallowing the lump in her throat she said, “Come in.”_

 _Heavy boots clicked against the floor panels as the door slid open then closed. Daniella swiveled in her chair. Jordan stood at the door dressed in Federation tactical pants and plain sleeveless undershirt; his thick ivory shoulders almost translucent against the dark gray material. Except for his artificial arm._ _The latest in technological advancement; fully formed with all functions; made from light-weight titanium alloy and nano-infused silicone. It was completely indestructible._

_And he hated it._

_His cold hard stare lingered on the reddened flesh of his shoulder where machine attached to man. He shut his eyes and let out an exhausted breath._

_“The old man still hates me,” he muttered, his smooth voice pained, echoing a similar ache in Daniella’s heart._

_His lips pursed into a thin line as he stayed at the door. He ran a fleshy hand through the ebony locks of hair against his forehead. The neat sweep he always kept for formal dress twisted through his long pale fingers. His dark brows furrowed into a deep V as he leaned his metal arm on the doorframe_

_“He’s just worried,” her voice soft as her eyes traced the lines and joints of the prosthesis._

_She pulled her eyes away quickly and turned back to the desk._

_He could despise the arm all he wanted, she thought, he was alive because of it, damnit!_

_She swallowed hard and swiped one of the screens over to her BioTech then turned to him again. With her left palm up, she touched the space in front of her and opened a smaller screen._

_“These are… some of the recommendations for the Federation fleets. There’s a few from Lum’s tribe and even one from Paragon Kovalchuk-weird to hear from him, he might just want a chance for a rematch though.” She let out a breathy chuckle. He ignored her; both hands-flesh and artificial-wrung together._

_Only the low hum of the ship’s engine filled the silence between them._

_Minutes felt like centuries. He kept his eyes on the floor._

_“I’m sure this isn’t the best time, but you did say to keep you informed on any updates on my transferring”-she cleared her throat-“I’d like it to be an official transfer so I’ll need your signature once I make my decision.”_

_His face twisted as his words came out in a broken whisper, “You can decide to stay.”_

_“We both agreed this was for the best,” she said, keeping her voice neutral, “as long as I’m here you can’t advance in rank, and now The Orion’s being held back too. How is that fair to anyone?”_

_His eyes snapped up to hers; icy blues on golden brown. “We don’t need to advance-we're fine as we are!”_

_“You can’t honestly tell me you're okay with doing grunt work for the next few years? The crew needs work. You belong on the field-_

_“And you belong with us!”_

_He reached out to grab the end of the doorframe with his prosthetic. The frame bent against the strength of it. He cursed and fumbled trying to bend it back to normal. More dents and bruises formed as the stronger metal fingers molded the frame like clay. His lip curled into an embarrassed frown. How many times had he flustered himself by accidentally breaking things with his new strength?_

_Enough to make the smooth, suave Jordan Hoshino self-conscious apparently, her conscious answered._

_A few minutes of metallic scratching and grumbled swearing passed._

_Daniella chewed on her lip to keep from giggling, but a wisp escaped the corner of her mouth. “Leave it, Klax’ii can fix it later.”_

_She stepped over to him and cupped his face in her hands, warm honey on ivory, and gazed deeply into his eyes. There was the man she promised her heart to; the friend who healed her scars; the one she bound her soul too. He ducked his gaze._

_“We can reevaluate the Orion, take on more recruits-if he’s afraid of you being out on the field-”_

_“You know that’s not why.”_

_His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Then… I’ll retire.”_

_That again, she thought._

_Daniella rocked her head ‘no’ and took his prosthetic hand in hers; her skin warm against the sleek cold metal. He reached with his other hand to cup her cheek. She softly brushed it away, bringing up the one she held to caress her skin. He opened his mouth to protest but sucked in a gulp when she tapped into her nervites-increasing the stimulation of his hand’s sensors-and kissed every hinge and joint of his knuckles._

_“Just... stay, Dani-” He choked back a gasp as she kissed the synthetic muscles of his palm._

_Her kiss was a silent plea. 'Not tonight please.' More stimulation from her nervites. 'I love you. Please trust me.'_

_Jordan gripped her waist with his ‘safe hand’, thumb slipping under her shirt to lightly brush against her skin, sending a wave of heat up her spine. She looked up at him through her dark lashes. Her soft amber eyes meeting wild, smoldering blues._

_“Jordan-”_

_His mouth was hers hard and desperate, the roughness of his lips sending her thoughts swirling. Lips parted. Tongues met and withdrew, allowing for sighs to be consumed. In a quick pivot, he flattened her back to the plated wall near the door. The frigid metal sending a shiver through her body._

_Her tongue traced his bottom lip. A hint of bourbon lingered. That explained his lack of argumentative vigor. The doorframe cried again under his grip. The sound of his heavy breathing and metal whining against metal all because of her tongue filled her with brazen want. Hungry, she clawed for the artificial hand._

_“No,” he breathed. His other hand pinned hers to the back of his neck. Her fingers twisted the longer strands of jet black hair._

_It hurt how much she wished he wasn’t afraid to touch her with that hand._

_They tried once-in the shower-getting so caught up in the moment Jordan bent the showerhead. Lum cackled like a maniac when Daniella told him the ridiculous story she had to make up to explain it to their repair technician._

_Daniella shivered as Jordan wedged his thigh between hers. She stifled a moan against his neck as she pressed her weight on him. He nudged his nose across her temple, drawing her lips back to his, and let out a groan as her nail gently tugged his scalp._

_The intercom near their heads buzzed. Lum’s voice breaking the wonderful haze. “Uh, Dr. Ortega would you mind sending ‘Paragon Ortega’ and the captain over to the control deck-thanks!”_

_They cussed. Daniella dropped her hands to his chest and buried her forehead in his shoulder. Her heart pounded in her ears. His racing heart thrummed under her palms. Jordan panted into her neck, lips still brushing her pulsing skin._

_Daniella lifted her head off Jordan’s shoulder but moved no further away. Her eyes traced the flush of soft pink on his sculpted pale neck; his pulse quivering underneath._

_Mindless, she tilted her chin up and sucked. A sharp hiss escaped his teeth. He reached down to cup her knee to hook it around his waist. She arched her back and pressed her head against the wall, a hand gripping his shoulder and the other to claw at his prosthesis still buried against the doorframe. His synthetic muscles coiled and trembled under her touch. Her nails scraped loudly against the protective plating as he licked and nipped her lips, across her lovely square jaw… down her neck. She writhed against him with every further dip._

_The intercom buzzed again._

_“Look I’m sure I’m **not** interrupting something that you both say is **not** going on... but it was either: reach you on the com or send the “lizard” and that wouldn’t have been fun for anybody soo-”_

_Jordan growled then cleared his throat. He reached over with his artificial hand using every ounce of restraint to not crush the talk button. “Understood Lum.”_

_Minutes passed with neither moving._

_Jordan sighed as he dipped his chin back to Daniella. He touched his forehead to hers and kissed the tip of her nose. “Looks like you’re needed up there Paragon.”_

_Daniella licked her lips as her breathing slowly returned to normal speeds. Timid eyes flicked to the strain in his pants. And with a crooked grin, she said, “looks like I’m needed here too.”_

_He chuckled hoarsely-his cheeks a soft pink-then swallowed hard, kissed her damp forehead, and eased her leg down. His human hand stayed on her waist, the other he brought closer but kept on the wall, away from her. Metal on metal clicked as he shifted._

_She cupped his face again, kissing cheeks, chin, nose. Everywhere. Yet, not enough._

_He pulled away a bit, allowing themselves more space to breathe. Slow. Patient. With the willpower of the Creator, he traced the underside of her bottom lip with the silicon pad of his metallic thumb. A burning wave coursed through her, involuntarily causing her nervites to flare. For a few seconds, her mind went blank only feeling his touch._

_Jordan shook his head and grinned victoriously; blue eyes, like cosmic waves, shimmered; the creases in the corners of his lids stretched down towards his high cheekbones. “Later,” he promised, “we’ll find time.”_

_There would never be enough time for moments like this. But every single one they cherished as if the very last._

_Jordan stepped out to the hall while Daniella reached next to her desk for a pullover hoodie and slip-on shoes. The two joined the rest of the crew in the control room where a distress signal played over the comm system; the horn echoed off the metal paneled walls. A distorted message buzzed on repeat._

_“Tressith merchant ship Captain,” Lum said, “coming from Jesic 9 station. No time stamp.”_

_“Run it through the VI,” Jordan told him._

_Lum synced the message to The Orion’s translator and played it over the intercom._

_“All stations… this is vessel Itik-khra… Jesic 9… compromised. Sentinel scout… warning… requesting Paragon interception…”_

_The crew turned to their Paragon; focused and steady masking the storm of anxiety building in her gut. A scout could potentially mean a warship and The Orion wasn’t meant for a full-on assault._

_“None of the others have sent out a call,” her voice low, cautious, “did you send it to my Tech?”_

_The Zinorph nodded, their mandibles quivering._

_“How fast can you get reinforcements?” Jordan asked._

_“Not fast enough,” Paragon Ortega replied, her tone neutral, controlled. She barely glanced at the captain. “Wouldn’t matter either way. They already sent out their request.” One she was bound to respond to even when the rest of The Orion was not._

_She felt Jordan’s eyes on her. She didn’t meet them. Not at that moment. ‘Dani’ needed to be buried for Paragon Ortega to appear._

_She knew that. He knew that._

_No order from him could override a call for a Paragon. Even attempting to stop her would have serious repercussions._

_Her eyes finally flicked over to him, silently seeking a dismissal. Gone was the man she loved. Buried._

_Captain Hoshino stood rigid, white knuckle fists on the hologram table. “To your station, Paragon.”_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to The Black Shroud, Paragon

* * *

_Paragon Ortega marched out of the control room, across the main hold, and into the medbay; her sanctuary. Smaller than the billion unit facilities she held her residency at, but up to code per Federation standard for an exploration ship. Most of the tech simple; machines to handle day-to-day needs of The Orion’s non-Elysian members: scanners, sensors, basic surgical tools. Enough to patch up the odd puncture wound from an energy shell or to purge out an alien psychedelic fungus._

_The Orion’s missions never sent them near the rest of the war; something Daniella knew was due to her father’s influence. But even if the crew faced trouble, they had their Paragon and her nervites to protect and heal them. And she had her ViteChamber._

_The cylindrical pod at the center of the room, made of the strongest materials in the universe, was the core of her powers. There she rested and recharged her nervites, regenerated her injuries if they were more than the nervites could repair, and where she was able to connect directly to the Creator and Paragon order: The Order of the Omega._

_“Forwarding it to the order would take too long,” she said to herself as she tied her hair up in a messy bun with a band from her desk._

_She brushed away the stray hair from the back of her neck, then gently scraped her thumbnail up, stopping below the skull, and pulling back her fingers just an inch._

_Black, thread-like wires grew from her skin. Out they stretched and twitched like spider legs. They multiplied and peeled her skin apart, cutting a tiny slit in her flesh. More wires grew from the opening. She brought her fingers close to them. They cautiously touched her skin-sensing-then attached themselves to the surface of her thumb and crawled out of her neck. At the end of the wires was her E.V.E chip; a translucent, flat, diamond-shaped piece of hardware housing the Emulative Virtual Entity program. It was designed to act as an interactive version of the Creator for when Elysians are too far from home. As a Paragon it also allows her consciousness to directly slip into their order’s headquarters._

_She held the edges of the tiny chip between her thumb and index finger as the wires receded into its center, only to reappear and imbed themselves into her BioTech when brought it close enough. She tapped the screen, transferred the audio file to the chip, then held it back to her neck so it could reinsert itself._

_Daniella shrugged off her pull-over and stepped back inside the ViteChamber until the module sensors hummed against her back. Thick cables sprouted from the machine. She sucked in a quick gasp as they attached themselves to her. Her nervites pulsed slow, cycling through the chamber and replenishing their reserves. She closed her eyes and relaxed her breath. In. Out. Again. Then one last deep inhale before linking herself to the order._

_“Report Paragon.” A computer-generated voice hummed through her bones._

_Daniella opened her eyes to the familiar yet eerie sight of the holiest of holy grounds, The Source. A dim open space lit only by the red hue of a giant synthetic tree; the lifeline of all Elysians where memories flowed and recycled into new lifetimes. Robotic-arm like branches plucked a variety of wires and cables around the rest of the structure. The thickest cables flowed back down to its roots and embedded themselves into a massive power grid._

_Several Paragons came and went; their pale robed figures materializing through space. Daniella blinked as the Creator’s virtual assistant appeared from the tree. An expressionless hologram running a basic software program designed to act as The Source’s database._

_“Report Paragon,” it repeated._

_Daniella bowed, her own robe brushing against her bare toes, “Creator, a request has been issued. Allow me to transfer the audio into The Source so if I fail another will take my place.”_

_“Proceed.”_

_She kneeled at the tree’s power grid and a wire stretched down to her from a nearby branch. As it reached closer, it thinned until it was no thicker than a strand of hair. She pulled back her hood and allowed it access to embed itself momentarily under her skin and into the E.V.E chip._

_With the audio now transferred to The Source, it replayed the message to all Paragons within the vicinity. The distress alarm echoing in the near-empty space. Loud and low; haunting. Fitting for the vibe of this eternal chamber. The alarm rose in pitch. Then again. Strangely higher almost like the tooting of a toy horn._

_Toot._

_Toot. Toot_

* * *

_Toot!_

Every incisive blow slammed against Daniella’s eardrums. Although, it wasn’t as agonizing as the rocking from the vehicle she rode in. She figured she snoozed off in the Rhino; an armored ATV with enough room to fit the entire crew fully geared plus two side cannons and a mounted turret. The thing was a beast, but somehow always had terrible suspension. Her bones bounced hard on the seat. She groaned as her eyes shot open.

_Toot. Toot!_

"Gah!” She yelped.

A fat white bat with a massive head and glowing antenna hovered above her head, blowing on a tiny brass horn. Daniella tried to swat at it, but her hands were bound. She shrank away from the thing when it started talking. 

"Hrmph, you don't have to be so rude," it squeaked, "maybe that's why you're tied up, kupo!" It blew the horn again then flew away. 

A firm grip tightened on her shoulder. “Keep still, prisoner!” barked a young Sentinel seated across her. He shoved her back onto a hard wooden seat. When she gave him a seething glare, he shrunk back an inch. She settled in her seat content with his fear. 

_This isn’t a Rhino..._

Indeed it wasn’t. 

They rode in a primitive caravan; rickety and wooden. The wheels creaked with every rotation. Sunlight pierced through holes in the overhanging canopy. At the reins was a human and another Sentinel; their backs to her, both suited up in similar leather armor; shades of red and green with dark detailing. The driver’s bench was too tall for her to see what animal pulled them along. It made little noise except for the crunching of dirt with every step and the occasional low peep. Two humans flanked her; armored and armed with spears and bows. 

Only Daniella’s hands were bound. _Hmm._..

She hunched her shoulders and shuddered, feigning terror in her voice, low and in Elysian to the human at her right. “ _Untie me. I can get us to safety._ ”

“Silence!” The Sentinel ordered; a hint of fear in his voice.

Daniella tried again, swiveling her head to look around in a fake panic. She hyperventilated and forced out false tears. She was just another lowly traumatized prisoner with no means of slaughtering both Sentinels in seconds. Nope. Not at all. Not in the slightest...

“H-how long have the S-sentinels occupied this- _uck_ -p-planet," she ugly sobbed, even choking on a few words to drive the act home. 

The Sentinel jerked his head to the human. She pulled out a rag from her side satchel and wrapped it around Daniella’s mouth. 

_Creator’s Mercy, they’re thralls_ , she thought. 

Thralls were an unfortunate by-product of Sentinel warfare; humans manipulated into slavery by their Sentinel captors. It wasn’t unusual for neophytes, Paragons in training, to have to shadow their mentors when news came of a colony being invaded. While the Paragons’ priority was fighting off the actual invasion, neophytes looked after any rescued thralls. 

Daniella huffed through her nose. _So what's next Ortega?_

She kept her eyes low as she scanned the caravan. There, on the floor behind the Sentinel’s feet was her gear, including the BioTech. 

_Out in the open,_ she wondered, _too easy._

Her eyes kept moving. A unit of Sentinel guards marched around the caravan. 

As did more armored humans.

It was _wrong._.. Unsettling. 

But these humans didn’t look like thralls. They weren’t sickly. Their eyes weren’t glowing from magical influence, at least from what she could make out from under their masks. They could be a “fresh batch” so to speak. Maybe if she showed the humans she was a Paragon they’d feel safe enough to trust her to get them out of there.

Daniella inhaled and cautiously let only the nervites in her palms activate. Then she angeled her hand to show the smallest hint of their glow. 

A blade, quick and sharp, touched under her jaw. Her pulse flicked against the cool metal.

“Steady,” hissed the human woman, her grip tight on a short dagger. 

“Keep the prisoner under control” A human seated at the reins of the caravan called over his shoulder. 

“Yes sir,” answered the Sentinel. 

_Sir?_

Paragon Ortega’s skin turned to ice.

 _Sir?!_

For a Sentinel to see themselves as equal to humans was unthinkable, almost laughably insulting. To have one refer to a human as their superior…

 _Psychological warfare, it has to be,_ she tried to convince herself. It was the only way to not make herself sick.

Too late. Bile clawed up her throat. She hunched forward, gagging from the burning vomit. Some came out of her nose making her throw up more. Her shoulders jerked as she started to suffocate. 

The caravan slowed as the Sentinel next to the driver twisted his head around to deal with her. 

“He said-”

Her words cut out in a gargle as an arrow pierced her throat. More arrows whistled past Daniella’s head. 

Her fingers, clumsy and desperate, yanked down the rag from her mouth. She coughed and spat out the clogged up vomit as more arrows flew by. Two hit the human woman. Daniella threw herself down on the seat as the other human and Sentinels jumped off the caravan and sprang into action. She poked her head up just enough to check who or what was attacking. 

Bird-like humanoids swarmed from the surrounding woods and ambushed the caravan. Sentinels and humans snapped into defensive positions; already taking a few losses. 

_Thank you chickens!_ Daniella ducked to the floor of the caravan, throwing herself on top of her gear. Someone tried to pin her down. She wrestled her way out, throwing elbows and knees until she rolled off the caravan and crawled under it.

Bodies and gore spilled across the dirt road. A path opened in the chaos. She sprang from under her cover and sprinted into the nearby woods. 

Twigs snapped behind her.

A birdman rushed at her; its jagged rusty sword held high, ready to swing. Daniella cupped her BioTech in both hands-still bound-and triggered the plasma blade. White-hot light slid through the creature’s chest. Instant. Smooth. The creature fell to the ground with a death squawk. 

Daniella knelt over its corpse and used the sword to saw off her bindings then strapped on her gear. Her uniform was little more than trash rags against her body now. _This is fucking garbage!_ She needed _real_ armor. 

She looked down at the strange creature's corpse. What the birdman wore wasn’t any better; not that it would have fit her. The feeling of her BioTech now clapped around her wrist brought the smallest amount of security.

But she wasn’t completely safe from danger. Sounds of combat echoed in the distance. 

Staying low and out of sight, she weaved between the brush. More birdmen ran by, squawking and cawing. Her breathing wasn’t under control. They were going to hear her. 

The BioTech beeped. A distorted robotic voice stuttered in her ear implant, “My Ss-starlight.”

“Creator!” Daniella whispered a gasp. 

An old, fallen tree trunk provided cover away from the sounds of the fighting. She crawled in and pressed her back against the roots. The bark scratched her skin through the thin material. She tapped her device once. A glowing, computer coded figure crouched next to her. The figure’s outline was incomplete; pieces of code floated away from them then disappeared. 

“W-what is this?! What’s wrong?” Daniella cried. Tapping the device on her wrist she whispered a command. “Run a system diagnostic test.”

“Operation: ‘Creator’, malfunctioning. Cause: ‘unknown anomaly interference',” the VI reported back to her, “seek systems technician for repairs.”

“Another...Cr-creator...interferes with my ss-system.”

“Itar and Idall!” Daniella spat.

“The-these are not your f-feared... Sentinels. L-look there, my Ss-starlight.” The broken figure motioned behind Daniella. Through a rotted hole in the bark, she could see the fighting in the distance.

A birdman charged at a human archer. The archer, distracted, sidestepped a second too late. The creature swung. Down went the human; neck splitting open. A spear flew into the creature fast and precise; the force killing it instantly and impaling its body to a nearby tree. The Sentinel that threw it ran to the bleeding human, barely missing an arrow, and dragged them to the back of the caravan with another Sentinel running over to them.

Then in an action near incomprehensible, the Sentinel _healed_ the dying human with his magic.

“ _Why…_ ”, Daniella mouthed. Magic was nothing new to her; Sentinels weaved fire and lighting from their fingertips to burn down cities and electrocute innocents.

 _Never_ had a Sentinel used their magic for good. _Never_ had a Sentinel healed a human. Torture? Butcher? Rape? _Yes!_ But this…

If she hadn’t witnessed it, Daniella wouldn’t have believed it. At the same time, she would have also continued believing humans couldn’t possess any magic. Nervites were _science-not magic_!

And yet, a small human woman froze a charging birdman then set him on fire with the wave of her staff. 

_They-no, I-_

Sentinel and human fighting side by side, mending wounds. Defending themselves. Protecting each other. But one by one they began to fall. Only a few remained and soon to be overrun. 

“Tr-trust in m-my judgment. All as One-one; W-wise of Mm-mind-”, the figure hummed then warped back into the device.

“... _Ease of Heart_ ,” Daniella finished in a daze.

The Elysian prayer; their motto. Words the Paragon order lived by. “ _To keep the mind open; rational. And the heart steady; free. For all Elysians. For The Federation.”_

_For my crew..._

“Fuck,” she hissed. Nothing made sense. “Fuck!”

Two more birdmen ran past her hiding spot. The Paragon didn’t hesitate. She rushed out of the log; her knees skidding against the dirt, nervites flaring wild and loud; their light radiating from her skin. The birdmen turned to the sound. Her hands twisted and curled, bending the gravity around the fallen tree and lifted it high into the air. The creatures charged. She swung her arms down hard, sending the massive trunk rolling into them. Their bodies snapped and crunched under the force. 

One squawked in agony, pinned down, and teetering on the edge of death. Blood spilled from its beak. The Paragon dug her heels into the earth as she stood. She flexed her wrist and curled her fingers, forcing the tree trunk deeper into the earth. Bark snapped. Bones crunched. The squawking stopped.

 _Forgive me_ , she noted mentally. Yes, as a Paragon she was trained to kill, but as a medic, she always found it difficult to take a life that wasn’t a Sentinel’s. 

With little time to lose, Daniella rushed back into the chaos taking a few of the birdmen by surprise as her nervites lifted them from the ground and launched them into the air. Two birdmen archers fired a volley of arrows which she deflected with a nervite barrier before sprinting at them. They pulled out daggers to defend themselves. 

_Too slow._ One. Two quick side steps and they were dead. 

Her first targets landed back down with audible crunching. One still in the fight, struggled to get back up. Fortunately for the bird, it wore heavy armor to protect from the fall. Unfortunately, it would have the opposite effect against nervites. Daniella reached out with a clawed hand. Her knuckles cracked as she curled her fingers together forming a tight fist, pairing the snapping of the birdman's ribs and whining of metal denting as she crushed it in its own armor by warping the gravity around it. Then she let it drop to the ground. 

The chaos quieted except for the occasional groan as it’s speaker took their last agonizing breath. The taste of wet dirt blended with rich iron blood that coated her tongue slowly dissipated as her adrenaline levels and nervites died down. Her nostrils stung from the mix of shit and piss from the fallen that defecated themselves as they died.

And yet, only the pleasant scent of grass truly disturbed her. 

_Just like old times huh, Ortega?_

And just like old times, Daniella collected herself quickly before checking the bodies of both sides of the attack. A few birdmen still twitched, stopping when she slid her plasma blade under their ribs and into their heart. She ran anatomical scans of the dead humans and Sentinels but didn’t check them right away. Whatever information the BioTech deciphered would have to wait until she was better rested to understand any of it… or to _accept_ any of it. 

She issued last rites to the fallen humans before cutting into the back of their neck to remove their E.V.E.s. 

She found none. Not exactly unusual, Sentinels stripped them of their chips before. They believed with the devices, they could discover a way to destroy The Creator, therefore, destroying the Eylisians and bringing down the rest of The Federation. Deciding she had no choice but to check the scans for some answers, Daniella tapped her BioTech to bring up its user interface. 

None of the information made any sense. In the simplest of terms, these humans were much like her, except they had no traces of any nervites-active or dormant. They did have an element in their bodies the tech’s database couldn't identify, however. The millions of unanswered questions she had gave her a skull-splitting headache. Or it could have just been her lack of proper rest and food. 

_Or a side effect of whatever that...horned kid did to me._ She ran her hand over the back of her neck and froze. Her nervites felt no EVE chip. She tapped her BioTech. Maybe I left it in.

Nothing.

“Gone…,” she whispered.

_I have to find The Orion. Find the EVE. Find Jordan…_

She dropped to a dead Sentinel roughly her match in size and began to strip its body of trousers and chestguard. She tucked what was left on her uniform around her waist to help keep the loose trousers from falling. Her frustration teetered on anger as she didn’t quite understand how to strap on the chest piece.

“S-s-stop, step away from my fallen comrades prisoner!”

_Oh for fuck’s sake!_

Daniella stopped struggling with the armor and dropped her hands to her sides. A flick of her wrist and the plasma blade hummed again, eager for more flesh. Exhausted and infuriated, she turned to face the young Sentinel that had miraculously, _or unfortunately_ , survived.

“ _You_ …you took the EVE. WHERE IS IT!?”

He pointed a broken spear at her. It shook violently in his dirt-stained hands. Human blood streaked across his armor in fine lines. Slashes from the fighting marked his chestguard. His single shoulder pad barely hung from its pathetic strap. His stance was off; too much weight on one leg. His knee was torn and bleeding… _like a human_.

Daniella’s nervites flared involuntarily. For a second, the Sentinel lowered his weapon. His lip quivered as she took a step towards him. He raised his weapon back up, trembling like a leaf, and wobbled backward away from her. 

A few steps and his shaky legs give out from under him. To the dirt, he tumbled, then winced as he crawled backward away from her. He cowered against the broken caravan, panting. 

“Where. Is. My EVE!”

“I know naught of it!” He whimpered in his rich accent. 

The Paragon stalked towards him, stopping at his feet which he tried to tuck away. He gasped from bending his injured knee. It was an ugly cut; jagged, bone exposed, and oozing blood; crimson painting streams down his leather boots. Her eyes followed the flow.

“You don’t bleed like a Sentinel,” Paragon Ortega spoke, her voice tight. “ _What are you?_ ”

“No less human than you,” he quivered.

“ _Lies!_ ”

Her nervites flared, but The Creator’s words echoed in her thoughts. She clenched and unclenched her jaw and fists; the plasma blade hummed louder against a slight breeze. Her breath calmed as did her heart rate. Her nervites did not; not yet, at least until she got some answers.

She crouched; straddled over the Sentinel’s injured leg. Her eyes scanned the blood again; followed up his leg then up higher to the broken arrow in his shoulder just under the fold in the armor padding. 

Her eyes stopped at his mask. 

Closer now, she saw it wasn’t completely leather; mostly leather yes in differing textures and thickness, but wood too. The eyepieces were too dark for the Sentinel’s natural eye glow to pierce through. Yet, enough of it should have bled from the edge of the mask where it barely clung to his face.

The Paragon lowered a knee and leaned closer to him. She kept her armed wrist rested on her other knee; weapon ready to pierce through leather and flesh if he so much as breathed wrong. With her other hand, she reached out to the mask. The Sentinel’s breathing slowed, near stopping as Daniella’s fingers brushed his cheekbone; pale and clammy; a small cut that had already begun to crust into a scab. Her nails caught under the edge of the mask. Hesitation would get her killed, so she tore back the mask then froze.

Brown eyes stared back at her. Not the pale glow from magic bloodlines. Not the ones that constantly haunted her dreams since she was a child. Not the ones that pierced the dead of night signifying death had come. 

_Human eyes._ Young. Teary and terrified. 

Daniella struggled to pull herself away from the Sentinel’s unnaturally natural eyes. “ _What. Are. You_?”

“Man,” he gulped, “like you.”

Her fierce gaze narrowed at his long, pointed ears

“E-Elezen,” he swallowed, “I’m an Elezen.”

“Is that a Sentinel half-breed?”

“ _A what?_ N-no I’m a full-blooded Elezen, I swear to you. Not that aught is wrong with Elezen and Hyur half-breeds. No! _No!_ ” Her eyes inflamed at his careless words. She stood causing him to cower more. “P-please, _please,_ have mercy…”

“Where were you taking me?”

“To Gridania. To the Elder Seedseer for questioning. They claim you are an imperial spy.”

She crossed her arms. “I’m not a spy.”

“No. Nor are you Garlean, although… I’ve never seen a blade quite like that.”

She thought for a moment then asked, “This place, is that where you took the rest of my crew?”

“I...I-I don’t know- _No, please wait!_ ”

Daniella had walked away from him, back to the corpses to find more pieces to add to her set of mix-matched armor. The Sentinel tried to stand, using the caravan for support but slumped back down to the dirt.

“Please…it hurts and you-you’re a magic healer-”

“I am _not_ a mage.” Her voice was severe enough to make him flinch again. _Ugh, stupid straps!_ She tossed a leather shoulder pad aside and searched for shoes; she had no plans to hike the forest barefoot. At least not a forest she wasn’t familiar with.

“But you are a healer. At Camp Tranquil,” the Sentinel continued, “the alchemist said you healed yourself...I-I can take you to Gridania. Speak with the Elder Seedseer, she may know you’re peoples’ whereabouts and she may have your... _thing_...”

“Is that _before_ my execution?” She scoffed as she laced up a pair of boots a bit too big for her liking. 

“Help me and I shall vouch for you. You have my word.”

Daniella huffed and ran her tongue across her dry cracking lips. She got up from the dirt and patted away the dusting on her bottom then stepped around to the other bodies that still intact armor pieces. _Um-excuse me-Ortega, why the_ **_fuck_ ** _are we having a conversation with a Sentinel?!_

He sighed. “Please, help me.”

“ _All as One… Wise of Mind; Ease of Heart_ ,” she chanted quietly to herself while working to have her BioTech camouflage itself to look like the matching pair of a set of gauntlets she took from a human. 

_All-as-One-Wise-of-Mind-Ease-of-Heart. Allasonewiseofmindeaseofheart._

“ _P-please_ …,” he choked and sobbed.

“FUCK!” She shouted loud enough to make him jump. “Which one’s your medic?!” she snapped.

The Sentinel gaped at her. She shut her eyes then asked again, “Which one. Is. _Your_ _me-di-c_...your healer. They’ve got supplies on them don’t they?”

“ _Thank you_ , thank you!” He looked out at the bodies and tried to stand again. “Cecily. She wears pins in her hair.”

She grumbled as she searched the bodies until she found his medic; a slash on the side of her face, reaching up to her hairline. Her colorful pins were dotted with dry blood. Daniella emptied out the contents of Cecily’s satchel and bandolier, finding only a few bottles, some dirty bandages, and an exposed sewing kit. 

“What’s in these,” she asked as she laid out the bottles next to him. 

“Restorative potions...and a few elixirs. This one,” he reached for a small one, “should ease some of the pain.”

He drank the bottle down as Daniella dabbed a few drops of the others on her skin then used her BioTech to scan them. One had enough properties to pass as an antiseptic and dumped the entire bottle onto the gash on his knee. He yelped. 

“ _Gah_ , she never used them _that way_!”

“Tough shit, I need you alive.” She quickly stitched up his wound. He yelped even more. Then she hastily wrapped it with the dirty cloth. She wrapped his shoulder too before hauling him up to his feet. _Some other medic can deal with him after I find my EVE._

“Gridiana is too far of a walk,” he gasped as he hobbled around the caravan, “we must take a Chocobo.”

“A _what_ ,” she sneered as she followed him around the caravan and took a quick step back as he knelt beside a large yellow bird curled next to a dead one on the ground. 

“A Chocobo. You have them where you are from, do you not?”

“ _No_ ,” she said dryly.

“Oh.” He peaked over his shoulder to her then dipped his face away from her and coaxed the bird into standing up. He gave it a quick pass over for any injuries before struggling up onto its saddle and offering his good arm for Daniella to climb up. “She can carry two. You can ride upfront if you’d like.”

“And make it easier for you to slit my throat-No, move up.”

He shook his head and began to protest, but then meekly slid up the saddle allowing Daniella the space at the back. The bird whistled as she got on. She gripped a hand on his injured shoulder and her fist at the small of his back. “Avoid the roads and don’t try anything stupid.”

“If you wanted me dead, you would have killed me. As you said ‘you need me alive’.”

With that, he clicked his tongue and the bird took off.

* * *

Almost half an hour went by in blissful silence until the Sentinel decided to open his mouth. “So,” he squeaked then cleared his throat to sound more casual, “ _non_ -Garlean, from where do you hail?”

 _Hail?_ She didn’t answer. The Sentinel shifted in the saddle careful to not rub against Daniella’s fist still at his back. Another thirty minutes passed.

“Do all your people have your…”, he took a moment to find the right words-“ _not magic-_ magic?”

Silence. His head occasionally tilted back to her but even quicker titled. Ten minutes passed this time.

“Well, surely you must have a name-”

“No.”

“‘No’ is your name?” He gently teased.

“You must be _really young_ or really _stupid_ to be this _trusting_ ,” Daniella growled. 

“You’re not a Garlean, not a spy, not a mage,” he said. “I have nothing to refer to you as to the Elder Seedseer.”

Daniella shut her eyes. If she pressed her teeth together any tighter they’d crack. “ _Ortega_.”

 _"Ortega_. 'Tis a first or family name?”

More silence. 

“Very well,” he said cheerfully, “Ortega then. I am Alfort-if the information is of any benefit to you.”

It took nearly another hour for them to see a fenced-in wooden city on the edge of a cliffside waterfall: Gridania. An hour Alfort gleefully filled with needless chatter serving to make Daniella’s headache worse. She did secretly appreciate the information he was feeding her. As it was, the city of Gridania and its surrounding forests was located in an area called The Black Shroud. While the area’s population was centralized in the city, several smaller settlements and encampments were scattered throughout. All, however, with the majority of inhabitants being Sentinels, but in Alfort’s term... _Elezen._

_Listen, if it looks like a Sentinel, walks like a Sentinel, quacks like a Sentinel…_

Yet Alfort did not exactly match them. Close though. Enough for the Paragon to mistrust.

Alfort mentioned the area’s population was only a fraction of what it used to be. Apparently, an effective catastrophe his people called The Calamity wiped out a good portion of viable land in The Black Shroud and the other nations as well. What Daniella found ridiculous was that _no one_ seemed to remember what exactly happened. 

_Convenient,_ she thought, though she wasn’t in the best situation to judge as she herself had no memory of arriving on this planet. 

Alfort managed to get them to the stables without raising suspicion thanks in part to Daniella having matched his armor and the friendly reminder of the sheathed plasma blade pressed gently on his back. 

After stabling the giant birds and hobbling their way into the city, he cautioned her with keeping quiet while he talked his way into an audience with the Elder Seedseer. She immediately understood why; no one in the forest city sounded Elysian. Some looked Elysian, others…

She almost lost her “guardsmen” cover when she jumped away from two short human girls with pink cat ears and tails. _Nope, definitely_ ** _not_** _a costume._ _Real_ ears and tails that twitched and puffed up when they caught Daniella gawking at them. They even hissed like cats. 

“Who _did that_ to them?” she whispers to Alfort when they turned up the pathway to the city gates.

“Miqo’te are born as such.” He said it like it was obvious knowledge. Daniella noticed his steps were becoming more labored and draped his good arm over her shoulder to keep him moving.

“Which way,” she demanded low.

“The Elder Seedseer’s chamber lies beyond,” he pointed far across the crowded entrance to the city. 

She tucked her fighting fist to his ribs to hold him up and as before another friendly reminder or their deal. She dropped her chin and grumbled, “Let’s go.”

The city was much like how she remembered the camp she woke up in. Painfully simplistic and horribly out-dated; rows of wooden cabins and merchant stalls; stone and dirt pathways. The only thing of remote advanced technology was yet another giant blue crystal pylon. She made a mental note to remember to scan it later. 

_...If I get out of this meeting alive._

Alfort pointed her down some other pathways and stopped at the base of a giant tree building. Robed _Elezen_ and humans walked up and down a carved path coming from the roots of the tree. Another group circled a fountain listening to an older person recite passages from a dusty tome. 

Alfort’s weight suddenly dropped onto Daniella’s shoulders. He reached up under his shoulder pad. His fingers came back drenched in blood as he panted, “ _ugh_...the arrow.”

“We made a deal,” she warned low, “I helped you enough to get us here, now you get me into an audience with her _holiness_!” He bobbed his head and pointed her to a smaller path beside the tree. They stopped in front of a dark-robed Elezen with a tall pointed hat. 

“We are... the survivors of the... caravan attack,” Alfort struggled to get out.

“Ah yes, a scout reported the caravan missing to the Elder Seedseer. Pray, allow me to see you to her.”

They followed “Mr.Pointy-Hat” down the path and around the tree. Lower behind its exposed roots was a secluded waterfall with a quiet pool at the base and natural stepping stones leading to a central platform. There waiting was another horned human dressed in a fine tailored white robe with an elegant matching staff. She was older looking than the other one, possibly closer to Daniella’s age, but with nothing making sense on the planet the girl could have been a relic for all she knew. Flanking her were a pair of heavily armored guards and two other robed figures. The robed guards had branches strapped to their back and the armored guards had spears. 

_Sticks and stones aren’t shit to plasma weapons._ Daniella held up Alfort’s weight as they stepped over the flat stones to the platform.

“Twelve be praised,” the horned girl’s voice was soft with genuine worry.

Alfort weakly bowed his head and said, “Forgive us Elder Seedseer, we were ambushed by the Ixal.”

“‘Tis a miracle you both survived. And what of the prisoner?”

“Yes. Well...you see... _ugh_ ,” Alfort hesitated. He nearly collapsed against Daniella again then swallowed hard, “Were it not... for the prisoner, there- _mmh_ -would have been no survivors.”

“I see...,” she narrowed her eyes, “And where is the prisoner now?”

Daniella felt a trickle of Alfort’s blood run down her knuckles from where she cupped her hand under his armpit. He dropped to one knee, “She…”

" _Don’t_ ," the Paragon whispered into his side.

_Don’t do it..._

“She...is here.” 

He slumped off Daniella’s shoulders in slow motion and hit the platform with a thud. 

No one moved.

Then a few things happened within mere seconds. First, the Elder Seedseer’s guards clicked into defensive positions. Second, Daniella’s nervites instinctively created a barrier around her to counter whatever magic the “pointy hats” were charging up. 

And lastly, a familiar voice echoed in Daniella’s mind.

_“Save him, My Champion…they will understand...”_

_I can’t. Not for a Sentinel._

_“Save him…”_

_It'll never work!_

_“You must…”_

The Paragon rolled backward to avoid getting hit by two boulders the girl’s mages had finished charging. The stones whistled as they passed her head. She landed in the pool, water plunging into her ears making them ring. A spearman dived at her and she barely managed to roll out of the way. She jumped to her feet and pushed him back with her nervites, enough to clear a path back to the dying Alfort. 

Tunnel vision clouded her view of the other spearman swinging his weapon to slash at her back. Her armor took most of the blow but the spear’s blade was sharp enough to still cut through the already weakened leather. It hit a module on her spine. The impact sent a lightning strike of searing pain through the rest of them. She screamed a gasp and hit the ground with a tumble, but quickly jumped back up and sent a weak shockwave to her other attacker. 

Snarling through gritted teeth, she lunged forward to the platform. 

As soon as her foot touched the wood, Daniella’s body became heavy and slow. Far too slow. She struggled to push her leg forward against whatever force was pushing back against her. The mages were keeping her from reaching Alfort with their spells. She pushed back hard with her nervites, inching closer and closer him as he was choking on his last few breaths. 

_I won’t have enough…_

_No time!_

The mages charged up another set of spells. The spearmen lunged back at her. With a desperate cry, Daniella swung her arms down and let out a shockwave to knock them away and break their hold. She scrambled over Alfort and tore off his shoulder pad. His skin was ice from the loss of blood and he could barely keep his head up or eyes open.

Alfort gulped, “For-give...”

“Shut up!”

Daniella called on the last of her active nervites and tapped into her reserves. She touched her glowing hand to Alfort's bloody shoulder as the reserves surged from the modules on her spine. Down her arms, they flowed, and to her fingertips. They pulsed onto his skin. Around his exposed flesh where they congregated and pulsed slower.

Then the nervites transferred the gaping wound to Daniella’s flesh instead. 

" _No_ ,” she let out in a sob. “ _It can’t be! Please no..._ ”

_No, no, no!_

Daniella failed to hold back her scream as a hole tore through her shoulder. The nervites on Alfort's body spread as his shoulder wound began to seal. Nervites repaired veins and muscle tissue, forcing the cells to regenerate at accelerated speeds. As soon as fresh pink skin formed, the nervites spread to his other injuries. The crusted cut on his face transferred to Daniella’s golden honey cheek. After a few seconds, her nervites stopped glowing and she screamed again when her knee cap was torn open.

_No, please no..._

Alfort let out a screaming gasp of air then crawled away as Daniella's cries turned to ragged sobs. Both spearmen closed in on her. 

_I’m sorry, Creator...I’m so sorry._

“Hold!,” the horned girl called out.

One spear pierced just under one of Daniella’s ribs and the other under her now injured shoulder as their welders came to an abrupt halt. She hissed when the blades exited her body. 

Alfort panicked and ran his shaky hands over himself, checking his injuries; old and any new. Ripping off the sloppy bandages from his knee, he found the skin newly healed; smooth and pink, but slightly tender to his touch. A few sutures stuck to his leg hairs which he quickly brushed away then stood up on wobbly legs. 

“It worked,” Daniella whispered to herself, her voice soft and weak and tired. A few fallen tears stung the fresh cut on her cheek; tears of fear and grief. Not from the possibility that she had almost been executed prematurely.

No, because she had successfully used her nervites to heal a distant version of a Sentinel. “ _It fucking worked..._ ”

The Elder Seedseer stepped forward. Her guards stayed over Daniella as she quietly cried. The Paragon lifted her head lamely and met a pair of stern but curiously soft green eyes, tracing over the fresh wounds as Daniella had to Alfort earlier. Ashamed, the Paragon dropped her gaze.

The Elder Seedseer gave Daniella a slow pass over, watching her nervites regenerate her injuries near instantaneously. She loosened the grip on her staff and asked, “ _What are you_?” 

The Paragon carefully stood from the ground. Soul crippled, pride gone. 

She closed her eyes and said, “My name... is Daniella Rhys Ortega; combat medic on _The ESE Orion_ of the 577th Elysian Squadron of The Federation Army; 62nd generation Paragon from the Order of the Omega”- 

_Creator, Jordan...please-_

“I am very _far, far away_ from home”-Daniella opened her eyes-“And I have _a lot_ of questions.”

_Please._

_...Forgive me._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eorzean lessons in adventuring

The Elder Seedseer and her conjurers circled Alfort; radiant light emerged from their palms as they inspected his freshly healed injuries. A unit of mages held the Paragon in an arcane entrapment while spearmen created a tighter-pointier-ring closer to her.

“He should be completely healed,” she said softly; no pride to be had in her own voice.

“‘Twould seem so,” The Elder Seedseer said as she turned away from him, “and I would inquire as to _how_.”

“I have my own questions I need answers to-”

“-of which you are in no position to _demand_.”

The horned girl was stern and absolutely correct. 

The Paragon shut her eyes momentarily and upon opening said, “They’re called _nervites_.”

An unsatisfying answer. The Elder Seedseer pursed her lips and folded her hands around her staff as she waited for a better explanation. Her guards locked in their movements around their prisoner. She gave the Paragon’s injuries another pass over before assuming, “magic?”

“ _She denies it, my Lady_ ,” Alfort accused, “ _claims it’s science!_ ”

“Because it is,” the Paragon mumbled, “at least in the simplest terms.”

“And in _your_ terms?” The Elder Seedseer pressed.

_If you insist..._

Daniella spoke with clear authority in her voice. “Nervites are an advanced nano-biotechnology, with an active portion coursing throughout the body as a pseudo nervous system and a reserve secured in the spinal modules.” She bent her elbows, tucking them to her side then held up her palms. The spearmen around her twitched but their leader steadied them with a quick raise of her delicate hand. The Paragon activated the nervites in her palms for a few seconds then cranked her neck away from her armor to show one of the metal round plates growing from her skin. 

She continued speaking unfazed by the Elder Seedseer’s guard. “Granted to some of my people by our Creator, with only a _fraction_ ever having them activated, otherwise they are dormant. First activated during childhood when the user comes into contact with Sentinels or, _in some rarer cases_ , triggered indirectly by an extremely traumatic experience _involving_ Sentinels. By default, they enable the user to manipulate atmospheric molecules. After extensive training, they are further utilized for offensive and defensive purposes. With the aptitude for medicinal practices and a formidable _connection_ to the Creator, a user can transfer injuries-” her chin dipped to herself then pointed to Alfort “-and accelerate mitosis for near-instantaneous tissue regeneration.” 

Crickets would have caused hearing loss from the absolute void of any sound once the Paragon finished her brief explanation.

Daniella blinked slowly before simplifying, “ _shields, shockwaves, and healing_ -in layman's terms.”

The mages whispered amongst one another. After a few minutes, The Elder Seedseer inched her chin up. “And yet, he did not arrive entirely healed. _Why?_ ”

The Paragon let out a deep breath in a sigh, “ _because..._ it should never have worked on a _Sentinel_.” 

“And _Sentinel_ is what your people call Elezen?”

“ _No_ ,” she said quickly. She swallowed hard then calmly added, “not exactly...I’m not sure if they’re the same. If they are a descendant that would mean my crew and I have discovered a new galaxy.” Her throat became sand. “Or, something in our timeline went wrong. I’m not one hundred percent convinced of anything at this point. _But what I do know is that unless I find my ship or my crew, I have no way of preventing any Sentinels from-_ ”

Daniella paused. She opened her mouth several times to speak, but no words came. The planet had only two choices; having knowledge of a possible invasion beforehand to ease the people into accepting the reality of their borrowed time or to join together and hope to defend themselves while the planet’s only Paragon made contact with her order. But even that last option had slim chances of changing their fate. 

There was no way to explain the consequences of a Sentinel invasion to a people who had no concept of the depth of their wars. 

Except, these people had faced their own _calamity_ once before...

“ _The Calamity_ ,” Daniella began, “what your people faced... is _insignificant_ to what will happen if the Sentinels discover this planet.” She huffed a humorless sigh. “ _They destroyed the moon a handful of their own people sought refuge on._ Having anyone remotely resembling a Sentinel living amongst humans and subhumans is _beneath them_. Having the populations outranking one another or... _reproducing_ is equivalent to _death_.” She eyed the pointed eared mages and spearmen. “Finding your _Elezen_ would lead to an eradication of all races as well as the destruction of the galaxy itself!” 

The Elder Seedseer pushed back her shoulders. “How can I be trusted your people do not seek to destroy the planet _themselves_?”

The weight of the Paragon’s history threatened to drag her to the planet’s core. Subtle. Slow with her eyes to the speartips, she swiped her hand over her BioTech. It’s leather gauntlet camouflage faded revealing the light-weight alloy band strapped around the middle of her forearm. The spearmen twitched so she moved slower. “There is an old saying on my planet that a picture is worth a thousand words.” 

She carefully brought her arm up, extending it past the spears. The arcane entrapment burned her skin as she held out her arm past it. Her reddened palm faced the crisp morning sky. Active nervites performed their intended job. Stressed from the entrapment’s constant damage to their host’s flesh. Daniella swallowed the lump in her throat and she croaked, “allow me to show you _a thousand pictures_.”

The Paragon flexed the tendons in her wrist. Azure blue light trickled from the device. It pooled in the center of her palm. She gently tossed the light into the air. It dissipated, morphing into holographic screens plastered with images and recordings; memories she copied from her E.V.E. 

Memories her people knew well. Those they still felt.

“Our Creator made us in their image; peaceful by nature. Destined to grow, learn, and explore, but to never needlessly take a life. As such, my people became fodder for the Sentinels in their ongoing crusade of _purifying_ the galaxy. At first, we were play-things to them; to control as they pleased...” 

The screens displayed the first known thralls; humans starved, shackled, and beaten.

“We had no means of retaliation so they moved through our colonies like a child drowning an anthill. Destroying planets is their game. And it's exactly that to them...a game-” 

The images shifted to several small colonies and towns. The skies above blackened from Sentinel warships blocking the sun. Arcane lasers from their underbelly eviscerated buildings in seconds. A line of Paragons held the frontal assault as neophytes evacuated the surviving citizens. Sentinel juggernauts lined up the sick and wounded in rows then executed each with a single lightning javelin. 

“Until their Creators realized they were... _incomplete._ ” Her throat caught on the last syllable. “After that, we were nothing more than rodents to be experimented with...” 

She switched the images to the first memory the order installed into her E.V.E:

An Elysian man laid split perfectly in half on an examination table surrounded by Sentinels; pale and gaunt long-eared elves in dark spiked Exosuits; glowing eyes pierced the thin slits of their helmets. They attached wires to one half of the man’s body; thick gauge needles stuck to what was left of his vital organs. Glowing runes and sigils hovered over the half body; ticking; recording. The Sentinels observed how long half of the human body continued to function as they resuscitated it with their magic. One eye shot open. The lung inflated. The half heart tried to beat only to convulse violently and die after two seconds. 

Then the Sentinels dumped the body into a decomposition chamber. Skin, muscle, and bones rotted then crumbled to dust within seconds. Another slab of half a man was slapped onto the table and the process repeated. Then they brought women. Some old. Some young. Too young. Again and again. 

Elysian prisoners screamed in the background. 

Mournful. Agonizing. 

Screams Jordan repeatedly woke up to whenever one of Daniella’s nightmares triggered the memory to reactivate; her own screams melding with theirs. Her throat became so raw she couldn’t answer his panicked questions. 

“I,” her voice quivered with contained rage. She carefully tapped into her nervites again, “and those like me are a byproduct of the millennia of _neglected injustice_ against my people...but even we have orders and restrictions against becoming a ruthless _murderer_ no different than those that plague our history.”

The holographic screens returned to Daniella’s palm as she pulled her arm back, letting the disturbed grove become serene again. Her nervites healed her skin. The waterfall trickled loudly over the airless silence as she let the natives process the information. Alfort was the first. He shuffled to the edge of the wooden platform and vomited up the potion and whatever else he might have had earlier.

For a brief moment, the Elder Seedseer’s mask of head-strong leader faded. She recovered quickly and quietly asked, “How long until their arrival?”

“Assuming we were even followed here, I can’t be sure. My crew and I were responding to a distress signal, but I don’t remember how I got here.” Daniella tapped her BioTech. “This device will record my surroundings, there’s nothing new here between receiving the signal and waking up in the tent this morning. Other than that we use a...backup device to store additional information, however, mine has been stolen.” Her eyes flicked to Alfort then back to the Elder Seedseer. “There is a way to locate it, which is why I need access to my ship and I believe you're the key to that.”

The Elder Seedseer inclined her chin to her entourage. The mages removed their spell and the spearmen backed away. As the extra protection moved to their previous positions she addressed the Paragon. “My scouts reported a fallen star had crashed in the swamp a few yalms south of Camp Tranquil. Upon arrival, they found the most peculiar vessel. They investigated believing it to be Garlean made and were startled when a glowing figure appeared and urged them to save its lonely passenger.” 

The Elder Seedseer refolded her hands neatly around her staff. “Your... _Creator_ , I presume?”

“Yes…”

“A unit of guards has established a barrier surrounding the vessel under orders to kill on sight any unauthorized visitors. Prove yourself as an ally to Gridania and I shall grant you access to your ship.”

Daniella was about to argue about the urgency to go to her ship but remembered this was the nation’s leader she was speaking to and she, to their knowledge, was a foreign soldier. Her words were cheap. And those images could have been lies for all they knew. Only actions would speak for her. Her tongue ran over her dry, split bottom lip as she said, "Alright."

“As a show of good faith, I shall assign one of my honor guards to guide you in your tasks.” The Elder Seedseer waved her arm out to her only human spearman; a young man; a few inches taller than Danielle and pale-faced, paler against his dark shaggy hair and thin goatee. Disregarding the obvious greater quality of his armor, matching the colors of his ward, he still had a fairly useless poking stick strapped to his back. Daniella huffed through her nose.

_Smart girl, picking your human over the other two._

“Seek the leader of the adventurers’ guild, Miounne, at the Carline Canopy. She may have work available for someone as capable as yourself,” The Elder Seedseer said with a bow.

“Yes ma'am,” Daniella replied and copied said bow. Her nameless escort marched off the platform and she followed him out of the grove.

When she and Alfort first walked through the city’s streets they got a few concerned glances-granted they had just survived an ambush. This time around, thanks to her brooding escort, the entire city’s gaze was at her back. People ducked out of her escort’s way as they passed. Several did a double-take before scurrying along on their business. Only guards like Alfort seemed to be the only ones unbothered by her escort’s presence. Probably because he severely outranked them. Without a word on any of the buildings they walked by or some long-winded story of how he passed out one night after a heavy night of drinking with his unit like her previous chatty companion had, Daniella’s reluctant new tour guide took her around a different path than the one she took before. 

It led to the far side of the city’s entrance; sandwiched between a long multi-storeyed building with an attached waterwheel and a large barrack-like structure with curved, golden roofing and heavy yellow banners. As they passed, combat dressed civilians scurried to and from the opened entrance. Several lined up to trade thick bundles of parchment for supplies. Some saluted-if it could’ve been called that-to who she imagined were higher-ranking officials; a few tight-faced guards dressed in yellow coats and matching dark tall hats and boots.

“I’m guessing that's the recruitment office?” She commented as they crossed a short, covered bridge. 

Her escort didn’t answer. He walked up a ramp to the crystal pylon’s platform and reached his hand up towards it. His hand stressed as a stream of colorful radiant energy channeled between his body and the pylon. His shoulders sagged then he turned to a rather confused Paragon.

“Attune yourself to the aetheryte, _Paragon_ ,” her escort finally spoke, if to snarl at her. “ _I refuse to waste time traveling_.”

_Oh look it talks…and I hate it._

“The Federation has protocols about handling unknown foreign objects,” she replied in a neutral tone, “I’d like to scan it first if you don’t mind.”

His jaw muscles twitched, but he sidestepped away so she could take his place. Within close proximity, the pylon hummed. Something in the air around it coated her tongue in a caustic substance. The modules on her spine vibrated. She tapped her BioTech then held her hand up high above her to allow a wider scan of the crystal. A cone of light emitted from her palm. After a slow triple sweep, she pulled her hand back to let the device’s virtual intelligence analyze the readings.

_‘Located unknown element. WARNING: High levels of unknown energy. Nervite interference probability at ninety-three percent.’_

_Thought so._ “I think I’ll pass on attuning myself to your pylon,” she returned with the same level vitriol her escort used in his voice. “My nervites won’t react well to whatever compounds it’s made of and I wouldn’t want to be accused of any more damage against your city.”

“Fine,” he spat then walked past the giant blue crystal and down the platform’s opposite ramp. They walked down the short hill leading towards the city’s main gates. He continued right and paused at the open archway to the building overhanging the waterfall. Her escort pointed to the grey-haired Elezen innkeeper, standing at her counter then sulked his way over to the bar. 

“ _Ease of Mind, Wise of Heart…_ ,” Daniella whispered to herself in her native language and passed through the archway.

The inn was lively. Several tables were occupied by a mix of guards and mercenaries playing what seemed to be some type of gambling game. Others were simply enjoying the comradery of their parties; all ranging from Elezen and humans to the strange hybrid cat-humans from before plus two new races she hadn’t noticed; tiny, pudgy Elezens-which Daniella thought would have been somewhat cute if they weren’t possibly related to Sentinels-and a few obvious steroid-chugging humans with serious pigmentation abnormalities. 

The early sun painted vibrant geometric shapes across the room as light bled through the tall stained-glass windows. A streak of bright green reflected off Daniella’s wrist, shining a light on the front desk.

“ _Well well_ , what have we here?” The Elezen innkeeper mused. She peeked up from her opened logbook and gave the Paragon a quick pass over. “Another adventurer, come to put your name down at the guild, I assume?

“ _Not exactly_ ,” Daniella monotoned. The poor Elezen took a step back, no doubt from her visitor’s rough accent making her groan internally. She tried her best to keep her tone light. “Are you Miounne?”

“I am,” the Elezen answered after her initial shock faded, “although many of the adventures refer to me as Mother Miounne, but the former is just as acceptable. Now, I assume based on your... _prestigious companion_ ,” her hazel eyes lingered on the heavily armored spearman sticking out like a sore thumb at the bar, “that you are a _special guest_ of our beloved Elder Seerseer, yes?”

_Been around, huh?_

She tipped her chin to watch her escort from her peripherals. A pretty barmaid failed at her attempt to flirt with him. Daniella turned her gaze back to Miounne. She leaned her elbow on the counter and bowed her head. “ _An honored foreign diplomat_.”

“ _Of course_ , then on behalf of my fellow citizens, I welcome you to Gridania.” Miounne bowed her head as well. “Given your status, your name need not be recorded with the guild, however, one would be advantageous if word of your duties as an ambassador were to spread throughout the great nation of Gridania.”

“ _Fair enough_ , but I doubt our nations share similar _penmanship_ so, you may record “Ortega” in your logs. O-R-T-E-”

“-Look what just arrived.” a male voice scoffed from her left. 

“-G-A.” Daniella finished then cocked her head to a group of guardsmen about Alfort’s age groveling at her.

“-another godsdamned adventurer…”

“ _Don’t you start with that_ ,” Miounne snapped back with a threatening waggle of her finger. “Adventurers are the very salve that Gridania needs. The Elder Seedseer herself bade us welcome them with open arms. Do you mean to disregard her will?”

“ _Of course not!_ Lest you forget, it is my sworn duty to uphold the peace! Am I to blame if outsiders bring mistrust upon themselves? “ _You-adventurer!_ -" the group's mouthpiece puffed up his chest at the Paragon, much to her amusement "-Mind that you do not cause any trouble here, or I shall personally cast you out of this realm and into the seventh hell.”

_Aw come on Ortega please, just slap him once! It’ll be hilarious and you’ll feel soo much better!_

Thankfully, the guards marched away before her conscience began its multi-step persuasion process that would have likely worked at that time.

Miounne cleared her throat, “Pay that outburst no mind. He only meant to... _counsel_ you. Suspicious characters have been prowling the Twelveswood of late, you see, and the Wood Wailers feel they cannot afford to take any chances.”

_Oops._

“As is often the way with folk who live in isolation,” she continued, “Gridanians are won’t to mistrust things they do not well know, your good self included. Fear not, however-given a catalog of exemplary deeds, and no more than a handful of years, the locals will surely warm to you.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t have a few years.” Daniella pushed off the counter and folded her arms. “I need to do some heavy lifting and _fast_ so what have you got?”

Miounne arched her finely manicured brow. “I suppose there is work to be done at the Bannock. It is a training ground found just outside the city where the soldiers of the Order of the Twin Adder are drilled in swordplay and other martial matters. An acquaintance of mine-a gentleman by the name of Galfrid-is an instructor there. Introduce yourself and find out if there is anything you can do to help. I’m certain your companions will know the way.”

“Will do,” Daniella said. 

She meandered her way to the honor guard nursing a drink at an empty table and looking about ready to impale himself on his own spear from the unwanted attention he was receiving from the inn’s patrons. “We’d dare less attention if you didn’t dress like that,” she snickered. 

No reply. 

“ _Fine,_ ” she grumbled. “The Bannock. Galfrid.”

He tossed back his drink, left a few bronze coins on the table then exited the cozy tavern with Daniella in tow. Once they passed the main gates, she expected him to veer towards the stables to grab a couple of the giant yellow birds, but he kept on down the path deeper into the forest. She sighed and followed behind.

_I’ll be filling out these boots by tonight._

As they walked, a carriage like the one she was being transported on, never passed. Not to say anything about the lack of ships or cars...or paved roads for that matter. It seemed traveling by foot or the giant birds were the most common means of transportation. She figured the carriages might have been restricted to merchants or the military. But then why was everything she’d seen on the planet so far so severely outdated? There were no power lines. The light posts were candles. Did they use magic for everything? If so, why was there a need to train their forces in swordplay of all things? They had access to magic like the Sentinels so why hadn’t they advanced like them? Did their Creator not allow them to? Did they even have contact with them? 

Unfortunately, her questions were going to be unanswered. 

At least unanswered by her escort. He only seemed to care about her existence when he occasionally titled his head to make sure she was still following him after she stopped to scan some of the area’s flora and fauna.

“Is there a reason the local animals are so huge? These squirrels are the size of _house cats_ ,” Daniella questioned when she crouched some distance away from the curious critter, “is it something in their diet? A contaminated water source maybe or do they really have no natural predators?” The honor guard paused to stare at her with contempt, said nothing then kept walking. 

True to Miounne’s words, the training ground wasn’t far from the city. The honor guard turned on the far left path of a three-way cross-section and down a small incline to yet another outdated encampment. Rows of tents lined one side. The other had a few hanging targets and practice dummies being hacked away by “troops” so green she half expected some of them to slice their own fingers off. They were no more than toy soldiers. Her heart heavied. They didn’t stand a chance against Sentinels. The likelihood that their forces could stand against a fully realized Paragon, especially if given access to her Exosuit, was equally slim. 

_We can worry about training them properly after we get the crew. I’m sure Lum’ll have a field day._

Her escort ushered her through the camp and stopped some distance away from a wooden watchtower. “That’s your man.” He pointed at a man under the canopy at the base of the tower then spun around to go off somewhere near the tents. 

Daniella made her way to the canopy, but was stopped by a short mage with a makeshift clipboard; a thin plank of wood with a small metal candle holder and inkwell welded to the top edge. 

“You one of _Mother’s adventurers_?” She drawled in her accent; not as flowery as those in the city.

“Something like that,” Daniella said, “she said I needed to see Galfrid.”

“So says the rest of you lot thinkin’ yourselves the next _Warriors of Light_ ,” the girl sniffed. She scratched her quil across a piece of parchment then tore it off and shoved it at Daniella’s chest, “come back when you’re done if you’re lookin’ for more gil.” She rushed off to some other poor souls trying to reach the canopy as the confused Paragon went off to locate her silent tour guide.

She found him in a provision tent wearing a more inconspicuous set of armor. Daniella pursed her lips to keep from seeming smug about him accepting her suggestion. The tent’s supervisor gathered a few items into a satchel then handed it to the guard along with a map. He tossed them at her once they were out of the tent.

“I had some girl hand me this, but I can’t understand any of it,” she said.

He read it over with a quick scan then immediately marched out of the camp. 

“So what does it say?” She asked.

No answer.

_Boy, that’s ironic…_

After a short walk, they reached a smaller watchtower, and like before, her escort pointed her to her necessary task giver. The two continued this silent back and forth well into the afternoon as she completed jobs; _trivial to such an elite trained Sentinel killing machine._

_Creator’s Mercy...I’ve been reduced to an errand girl._

And so she was. She collected samples from local giant mosquitos for an Elezen researcher to send to his colleagues in hopes of avoiding another outbreak of a disease that had decimated nearly a third of the human population in Gridania. 

“Why do you call them _Hyurs_? They’re humans. _You don’t call yourselves humans do you?_ ” Her voice was almost accusatory. 

“We are all men,” the researcher said cautiously. 

Doctor Ortega was about to thoroughly explain the obvious arrogance of his statement when her escort said, “We must needs press on if you wish to return to Miounne by nightfall O honored diplomat.”

_Laugh it up, Sticks._

She held her tongue and continued down her list of tasks. Dealing with the giant insects was by far her least favorite. Her conscious thoughts became more animated after she had to recover some surveying equipment in a cave inhabited by giant, six-legged, aggressive swarming water bugs. 

_Okay no no no this planet can eat shit now!_

As the day went on, and more massive bugs appeared, Daniella slowly began to agree with the vocal devil on her shoulder. But she needed to get to The Orion and find her crew. And her E.V.E chip. The absence of the Creator took a toll on her moral obligations to offer additional support to the locals. As such, she did the bare minimum while logging all of this new information on her BioTech’s database instead. During which she began to paint a better picture of Gridania and it’s people in her mind. 

First, the medicine she witnessed had yet to advance from the Dark Ages. The same was true for the majority of their infrastructure and whatever technology wasn’t directly involved with magic or the unknown element her BioTech couldn’t identify. Their military was entirely volunteer-based and severely undermanned, undersupplied, and undertrained. Not to mention many of the scouts reported suspicious activity surrounding the Ixal and a mysterious stranger that was thankfully not her. But worst yet, all of the troubles these people were facing would likely not be dealt with by the time Daniella eventually found her crew. Or the Sentinels found her.

By then none of that would have mattered... 

So Daniella continued taking task after task, tapping heavily into her active nervites, but careful enough that there was no need to use the reserves; there was no telling what condition the Vite Chamber was in so she couldn’t be risky with them. 

By evening, she dragged herself behind her escort as they traveled back to the Bannock. Her body was sore from the fighting. Her feet throbbed as they finally filled out over-sized boots. 

But at least she had done enough work in the surrounding area that she recognized certain landmarks and some of the local faces as well. It even granted her more information about the planet’s inhabitants. From the task givers and the few adventurers she came across, Daniella learned they all _believed_ themselves to be human. Only their physical differences separated them into subcategories; races. Each race was then further divided into two clans. Most clans had amicable relations. Others spent centuries locked in bloody civil wars.

When they finally reached the Bannock, Daniella and her _Hyur Midlander_ escort, who she consciously decided to call “Sticks”, sat down at a campfire with some of the other volunteer adventurers eating and drinking. Sticks eagerly accepted the passing waterskin from a gray-skinned, thick-muscled _Sea Wolf Roegadyn_ archer. One of the tiny _Lalafell_ -she learned wasn’t an Elezen with dwarfism got extremely offended at her-passed her a crude bowl of thick stew and crusty bread. 

“Thank you,” she said to the young Lalafellin mage. “I apologize for my misinformed evaluation of your earlier. I meant no offense; there are no Lalafells where I’m from.”

“ _Oh_ ,” she squeaked, her deep blush brightened by the firelight, "had I known, I would not have said such _awful_ things, I do apologize. A word of caution however if you have any intention of traveling to Thanalan, the capital is home to the largest population of Lalafells as well as the seat of the royal family.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Daniella smiled.

“ _Oi, lass_ ,” the Roegadyn archer cackled from across the flames, “you the mage that what ran in the yarzon nest?”

The Paragon swallowed her bite of food and grimaced at remembering one of their prickly long legs brushing her ankle. “Is that what they're called?” She set her bowl down on the stump next to her and tapped her device to log in the name to the database. 

The Lalafell leaned over for a better look. “What does your bracelet do?”

“It holds information,” she simplified, “and allows me to share it with other devices as well as record real-time moving images.” She played a short clip of the recording of her fight with the disgusting creatures.

“It-it was supposed to be my task,” the little mage stuttered and shrunk her neck into her shoulders. “I find them so _revolting_ and I swear by the Twelve, _they would have eaten me_!”

“Well,” Daniella chuckled lightly and turned off the device, “I don’t blame you. I wasn’t much of a fan either. At least the cave’s cleaned out now.”

Another mage-a Hyur-chuckled, “living under a rock you ain’t you see no yarzon eh?”

“Living on a different rock,” she muttered, hopefully, he was too drunk to make sense of it.

“Oi, your man a mute or you take his tongue out for not lashing ya well enough with it darlin’” the archer snickered and wriggled his unruly eyebrows.

“Sticks ain’t much of a talker,” she smirked, earning herself a nasty glare from him. 

The short human girl from earlier in the day stomped over from behind one of the adventurers. “Which one of you is Ortega?”

“ _Agnes!_ Come have a drink, _love_!” The human mage slurred.

Agnes curled her nose then pushed her shoulders back. “I have been recently made aware that an agent sent by the Elder Seeder herself was supposed to have arrived hours ago. Now, which of you is Ortega?”

“ _That'd be me_ ,” the Paragon deadpanned.

The girl puffed her cheeks. “I was led to believe you were an adventurer, not an investigator sent by the Elder Seedseer.” Daniella arched a brow as the girl continued berating her. “If I was made aware that were to report to Galfrid specifically I _would not_ have assigned you other work.”

From her peripheral, the corner of Sticks’ mouth creased to a smirk as he took another drink from the waterskin. Daniella swiped a bread crumb from her lip before casually saying, “I was told to seek Galfrid out by Miounne, but he seemed rather busy at the time. So I figured why not take some of the load off him?”

“ _So?_ Word of your deeds has reached him. He has requested your presence at the canopy at once,” Anges huffed then marched away.

Daniella and Sticks, sporting a _shit-eating grin_ , reported to Galfrid; a Hyur archer, possibly a few years older than her, dressed in russet leather armor and one of the wood and leather masks most of the forest’s guards wore. He dismissed the other adventurers under the canopy then turned to his visitors. “Miounne sent word to expect a most unusual volunteer, but I never expected one to be in the company of a Keeper of the Entwined Serpents.”

“ _Neither did I_ ,” she smiled and extended her hand, “Ortega.”

“Galfrid,” he said and shook her hand, “by your tireless and surprising efforts in completing those low ranked tasks, you have clearly proven yourself a friend to Gridania.” The _disciplined_ Paragon bit the inside of her cheeks to keep from smiling as Sticks’ cocky grin slipped away. 

“It was no trouble, I’m just _glad_ to be of service.”

“Be that as it may, I believe you can be trusted with sensitive intelligence.” Galfrid eyed the honor guard and sensing no protest continued. “You will by now have heard that a suspicious individual has been seen prowling the Twelveswood. And you may also be aware that Ixali activity has risen sharply in the region of late. What you may not know is that this increase coincided almost exactly with the first recorded sighting of the aforementioned individual.”

“So you think they’re working together?” She asked.

“Correct and in suspecting a connection, we tightened our surveillance in hopes of tracking down our unknown visitor. Alas, our quarry is proving to be exceedingly elusive -- almost as if he knows our movements ahead of time.”

“And you don’t think someone beneath you is feeding them information? Warning them beforehand?”

“You’ve spent some time among my troops,” Galfrid raised a brow at her then skeptically asked, “ _Do you truly believe any capable of such?_ ”

“ _Not really_ ,” Daniella admitted in a near grovel, “but it’s the prime environment to let a rat build its nest,” 

“Agreed.” Galfrid nodded. “Fear and anxiety are beginning to take their toll upon the citizenry. I cannot afford to allow this stranger to slip from my grasp again, which is why I am assigning you the task of investigating the last sighting. Acting independently and covertly, you may be able to close in on our quarry unnoticed.”

“Where should I begin my search?”

“At Lifemend Stump. _Be forewarned_ ,” he cautioned, “my people cannot offer you support, lest our prey catch scent of our presence and evade us yet again.”

“Understood.” 

With the arrival of night, the moon provided the two better lighting as they traveled off the stone roads and into the thicker part of the forest. After some distance away from the camp, Sticks stopped. His gloved fist flew up at an angle, stopping Daniella’s movements. He crouched low. She flanked him. Through the shrubs a few feet away on a mound of dirt was a sword sticking out of a stump; an _Ixali_ sword to be exact. 

Daniella sighed, inclined her head to Sticks, and threw her hand up at the sight. _Seriously? Come on man..._

Sticks cautiously approached the stump with her trailing behind. He climbed up the stepping stones then dropped to a squat a few inches away from the intricate handmade rings around the sword. Daniella activated the BioTech’s light and ran her arm above the closest section of the outer ring. It was made of stones and pebbles plus a variety of twigs, feathers, and leaves. Colors from the materials danced off the device’s light, alternating in different patterns between each ring.

“Is this some kind of alter?”

Her companion slowly curled around the outer ring, tracing a pattern in the dirt with his eyes. “Ixal tracks,” he whispered.

His right heel came up carefully in front of his left foot when he stepped then repeated the process in reverse as he started to walk away from the stump. Daniella stood. Sticks motioned behind himself to her to walk in his exact path.

“Let’s see what the tech picks up.” She tapped her wrist activating the device’s scanner. The ray hummed low as she moved her hand in slow, tight arches. “Definitely one of your birdmen,” she confirmed. “Nothing human so far.” 

They stopped just under the roots of a nearby tree where a birdman laid dead. It reeked a foul odor. Daniella switched off her device and knelt over its body. “It’s probably been here a few days. A few cuts here under the shoulder. Not enough to bleed out from though.” 

The doctor flipped over the corpse then immediately covered her mouth and nose to keep from gagging from the smell. A large tear in his chest had begun to rot. The flaky charred edges of skin were lined with fresh pus. A wriggling of maggots ate away at the deeper necrotic tissue. “Yep,” Daniella clicked her tongue, “ _that’ll do it._ ”

“Indeed,” Sticks said and leaned close to the body, “But who or what did it exactly?”

“Look,” a soft, dainty voice called out behind them, “someone’s already here!” The two turned to face a young human girl in light armor accompanied by a male Lalafell dressed in a robe; both sported a wacky pair of goggles. Plus one if the bat things from before the caravan ambush.

“ _Oh dear_ ,” the girl gasped and clutched her cheek, “Is that a sword in a stump?” She shook her head. “ _Bad idea. Really bad idea…_ ,” she went off on a mumbling tangent as the Lalafell approached Sticks with a bow.

“Ah, Keeper of the Entwined Serpents,” his shrill voice questioned the honor guard, “is this our dark stranger?”

_So much for the disguise..._

“No, no not this one,” the bat creature cut in with it’s high pitched voice. “Not even close, kupo!”

“So you weren’t a hallucination,” Daniella muttered as she stared it down. She crossed her arms and clicked her tongue again, “ _well that’s disappointing..._ ”

The three newcomers cocked their heads at her. _Do I really sound that bad?_

The girl paused her rambling to craned her neck up at the talking bat. “Hmm, you know her, Kuplo Kopp?”

It huffed. “Well, not exactly. We did try sharing a carriage ride, but it was _rudely interrupted_. Isn’t that right?”

The girl’s partner knelt by the stump. “ _Woah there_ ,” Daniella cautioned, “I’ve been assigned to investigate the area and haven’t completed my scan yet. I’m going to have to ask you and your companions to leave.”

“And we have been tasked to investigate by the Elder Seedseer herself.” He responded and slapped the goggles onto his face. 

Daniella scowled at her escort. _Sticks...come on man what the fuck?!_

The visor of the Lalafell's goggles flipped up. The soft high pitch ringing of night vision technology booting up quickly grabbed her attention. She whipped around. A lens at the center of his visor glowed. _Thank the fucking Creator, actual tech!_

“Are those thermal or infrared binoculars?!”

“Aetherteric,” the girl beamed. The Paragon just about wailed from her disappointment as the girl turned back to her partner. “How are the readings?

“Same as the last,” he sighed. “There is a disturbance here as well, and newly manifested at that.” He removed his headgear to face Daniella. “Kuplo Kopp seems convinced of your innocence. But if this isn’t your doing, _whose is it_?”

“My scanners picked up tracks that led to a dead Ixal a couple meters away.” She pointed her thumb behind her. “It’s been there a few days so our mysterious culprit likely planted the sword in the stump then mysteriously disappeared again.”

“I was unaware the Elder Seedseer had called in a previous investigator. Are you a scholar as well?” His large eyes ran up and down Daniella’s figure. 

“I was, but not from any university you’d know of. If you don’t mind me asking- _from one scholar to another_ -what are these readings you’ve been tracking?”

“Ah yes,” he said as he adjusted his adorable monocle, “it appears there are unusually high levels of aether wherever sightings of our mutual friend has been reported of being.”

“What’s _aether_?” Daniella tapped her wrist again to bring up some of her scans earlier in the day. She transferred them into several graphic charts. With her right hand, she swiped a finger across the screen to project a holographic screen in the air. “Is that what this element is?”

“ _Fascinating_ ,” the Lalafell gasped.

“So it’s this aether?”

“Beg pardon?” He said after a few seconds of open-mouthed gawking, “Oh, uh right, well, from this image I cannot be sure, but your device...I don’t believe I have ever seen anything quite like it. Might I examine it?”

“That’s a negative,” she said, “but that doesn’t answer my question of what aether is?”

“ _Surely_ , your studies have discussed in detail what aether is and isn’t? Although, based on your technology, that may not be the case…”

“Aether is all around us; it’s a life-force,” the girl said cheerily, “but, ever since the Calamity, the forest’s been really sensitive. The slightest disruptions to the aetheric flow-” A tremor interrupted her peppy chatter. “ _And this sort of thing happens_!”

They covered their ears to protect from the shattering sound of the crumbling earth. Gnarly bark limbs sprouted from the ground beneath the nearby shrubs. Twig-like claws pulled up heavy thick roots. The shrubs twitched and twisted around to face the alter’s trespassers. Sticks unclipped the buckle holding the spear to his back and twirled it as he crouched into an offensive stance. The Lalafell unstrapped his useless branch from his back and bent into a combat stance as one of the living possessed shrubs roared at them. “It seems we have little choice…”

“ _You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me_ ,” The Paragon spat in her native language.

The plasma blade descended with a low hum as it’s reluctant wielder joined the fray.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Building an Eorzean database.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the late update. I'll be honest, writer's block is a pain, so I worked on another fic to help then got writer's block for that one and came back to this one XD

_Man, I really hope I’m dead just so I can hear Kovalchuk’s smug voice say, ‘Oh hey Ortega, so how’d you die? Sentinel dogfight? A covert mission?’_

_‘No Master, I was murdered by a couple of angry fucking blueberry bushes!’_

“Hear...feel...think…”

 _Oh, this outta be fucking good._ Daniella opened her eyes and found herself in the vast atmosphere of space, yet unlike the first time, she wasn’t alone. A massive humming crystal, stretching the height of a warp gate relay, hovered before her. Energy radiated from the glowing construct; ancient and overwhelming. 

“Crystal bearer… I am Hydaelyn; all made one,” an equally ancient and overwhelming voice spoke, the sound sweeping deeply into the Paragon’s bones.

“A-are you,” the ball of emotions in the pit of Daniella’s stomach shot up and lodged itself in her throat making her voice thick, “are you a Creator?”

It was the only plausible explanation to the mix of fear, awe, and devotion that held her like a marionette on its strings.

The crystal _laughed_ , “I am many things. Creator. Goddess. Planet...”

“Planet!?” She looked around and saw no sun, barely any stars, and no other planets; nothing that would signify she was actually in open space. This was too calm, too serene. “This is your _Source_ ,” the Paragon concluded.

“‘Tis indeed.”

“Were you the one responsible for crashing _The Orion_?”

“‘Twas not I, however, at the request of thou’s Creator, ‘twas I who saved thee from the brink of death. A debt that must now be repaid...”

“So what do you want from me?” the Paragon asked, guarded. 

“A Light there once was that shone throughout this realm,” the crystal said, “yet it hath since grown dim. And as it hath faltered, so hath Darkness risen up in its stead, presaging an end to Life.”

“A Darkness? Sentinels?”

“Nay, something more, something beyond. For the sake of all, I beseech thee: deliver us from this fate! The power to banish the Darkness dwelleth in the Crystals of Light. Journey forth and lay claim to them.”

Daniella scoffed, “That’s no small debt! How am I supposed to know if I’ve one of your _crystals_?”

“By thy deeds, shall the Crystals reveal themselves to thee. Only believe, for the Light liveth in thy heart. Go now, Child of Stars, and shine thy Light on all creation.”

“Go? No, I have more questions!” One of the strings attaching Daniella to this realm tugged. Then another and her body drifted away from the crystal. “No! How did I get here? Who attacked us?” Her body was no longer hers and the crystal began to fade from her sight. _“PLEASE! Is he alive… is Jordan alive?!”_

* * *

“Paragon!” Sticks called to her over the dull pounding of her skull. “Doctor Ortega!”

Her eyes fluttered open and her palms reached up to rub the soreness of her temples then she pushed herself upright on the dirt and grass. Sticks knelt to her right with the waterskin held out for her which she took and sipped from as he turned to a pile of broken gnarly branch arms and chipped tree trunks. After sifting through one, Sticks stepped back and the remains of the angered trees disintegrated into prismatic particles. 

“You fainted,” the Lalafell said before Daniella had a chance to let the questions fall from her mouth. “A surfeit of aether no doubt. A common symptom of Aethersickness I fear.”

“How are we feeling then? Better?” his partner asked in a peppy voice.

“Not really,” Daniella groaned and tapped her device to check her vitals. 

Nothing was too out of place except for a lack of sleep, a migraine, and the fluctuating levels of aether her nervites seemed to ignore. Due to Hydaelyn’s timely interference during the fighting, her active nervites must have depleted and tapped into their reserves; at least they were still near capacity. 

“Tech says I’m fine.” Daniella stood and cleaned away the dirt and grass from her bottom and back as best she could then sighed, "I’m guessing no one else saw or heard the giant crystal?”

“Giant crystals?” the girl mumbled and tilted her head from side to side, “can't say I've seen any? Are you _sure_ your device isn’t broken?” 

“I’m sure.”

“Here is where we part ways,” her tiny partner bowed in a rush after dismissing the bat creature. “Till next time, take care!”

The two strangers left the Paragon with her escort who knelt back in front of the sword in the stump. “Galfrid will need to see this,” she said while climbing up the stone steps to the platform.

“Mhm,” Sticks muttered then stood, “I must needs report to the Elder Seedseer. Return to the Bannock.”

“Without you?” she asked with an arched brow and dubious glare. “Not afraid I won’t take off and sneak my way to the ship?”

“No,” he glared back at her from down his nose, “you won’t dare. You know the Elder Seedseer is holding information from you and won’t do anything to risk losing it.” 

Sticks marched off the platform to the center of the field where he challenged his magic then disappeared, leaving the Paragon to silently fume over her false sense of confidence before she grabbed the wretched sword from its wooden sheath and returned to the encampment like a beaten dog. 

“Ortega, it is good to see you back!” Galfrid said with a stern nod and cautious eyes. “One of our patrols sent word that you had been spotted doing battle with enraged treants. I am relieved to find you none the worse for the experience. But tell me, what were you able to discover at Lifemend Stump?”

Like the good diplomat she needed to be, Daniella gave him a full report of the incident plus the piece of evidence recovered from the scene.

“The Ixal rarely set foot in the Central Shroud,” he muttered to himself, “so tight is our guard over the area. What purpose could have driven them to take such a risk?” He pushed the thought aside and returned his attention to her. “Although our unknown visitor eludes us still, owing to your efforts, we have acquired important intelligence on the Ixali threat. You have my gratitude. We are fortunate indeed to have a capable adventurer such as you aiding us.”

“It seems I’m not the only one,” she snorted. “What should I know about the old married couple running around the forest with a pair of high-tech goggles?” 

The veteran soldier curled his eyebrows trying to understand the question then cackled like a mad man. “So you have finally been acquainted with Yda and Papalymo! Lay your suspicions to rest Ortega. Gridania counts them among her staunchest allies. Both are scholars hailing from a distant land and have been with us since before the Calamity. Never once have they given us cause to doubt them.

“Fair enough,” she said. “If that’s all the work you have from me, I’d like to report back to Miounne.”

“That need not be necessary,” he said and dug for a letter from the pile on his table, “she sent word for you to journey to the stables at Bentbranch Meadows.”

“The stables?" She asked, dubious then through the curl of her lip timidly said, “I’m _not_ a farmhand.”

“That you are not and it may be a waste of your talents,” Galfrid chuckled, “however, I pray you will continue to serve the people of Gridania in whatever capacity you are able.”

 _I serve the people to find mine. I serve the people to find mine,_ the Paragon chanted to herself all the way to the bustling stables where an eclectic mix of adventurers and workers zipped from every corner of the farm. She wondered why Miounne sent her at all and after being pointed in the right direction by a local traveling merchant, she introduced herself to the rancher Keitha. 

“I’ll be honest,” Daniella grumbled and sized up one of the giant birds with a challenging side-eye after learning most of the help needed on the ranch involved them, “I was never really good with birds...”

“You need not worry then,” Keitha said with a light chuckle. “One of the previous adventures returned a stolen egg to the stables and the stable hand has a message needing to be delivered to Miounne.” 

“Wouldn’t sending it with one of those bat things,” Daniella inclined her head at one, “be faster?”

“True but we felt this information was too sensitive to get lost in the mail and Miounne promised the adventurer she was sending our way is sworn to secrecy. Come with me.” Daniella followed Keitha between the stable stalls to a fidgety Elezen ranch hand cooing over a giant egg. “Luquelot,” she said, “this is Ortega, the messenger from Miounne.”

“Ah yes, another adventurer! I am so very grateful to you and yours for returning my dear egg to me!” He reached to clasp his large hands around the Paragon’s in a welcoming gesture but shrunk away when the nervites flared out of instinct. 

“Sorry,” Daniella shrugged her shoulders to brush it off as nothing and avoid explaining the tech, “the… _aether_ makes my, uh, _magic_ “twitch” sometimes. Now, what’s this message?”

“While the whole regrettable episode of the stolen egg unfolded, I bore witness to a sight that greatly concerned me… Of late, I have noticed that Ixali dirigibles have been appearing over the Twelveswood with increasing regularity. The frequency, however, does not bother me near so much as where they choose to fly: the patch of sky directly above the Guardian Tree.” 

“The Tree is a sacred site and thus the Twelveswoods’ elements will not suffer the Ixali to profane it as they are its protectors,” Keitha clarified for the confused Paragon. 

“Yet the birdmen have been coming and going as they please,” the Elezen continued, “with nary a sign of protest from the guardians of the Twelveswood. And it was that which set me to thinking- ever since the appearance of the much talked about “suspicious individual”, many and more strange things have been occurring in the forest.”

“You’re not wrong,” Daniella muttered then asked, “Do you think he might have done something to pacify them? Or lull them into a state of neutrality?”

“I dare not assume the musings of a lunatic,” Luquelot said and shook his head wide-eyed. “In case it proved useful, I have committed the details of my findings to parchment, and would ask that you deliver the document to Mother Miounne.”

“Please may all haste,” Keitha urged. “I have an irrepressible feeling that something terrible is about to happen. The porter near the gates can lend you a Chocobo that’s trained on the routes back to the city.”

The painfully out of place Elysian did her best to not question the sanity of adventures mindlessly riding the birds to and from the meadows as she squirmed on hers. _It’s all good Ortega, this is a fully trained bird. Stay calm. It might smell fear though._ Frighteningly on cue to her silent worries, the giant yellow bird chirped smugly. Thankfully, the creature’s long, powerful legs made the uncomfortable ride back to the capital mercifully short as her ass was sore from the saddle and an ounce of her hoped the Rhino still functioned. 

“Hello there, Ortega,” Miounne purred like a devious cat when Daniella entered the inn. “Word of your tireless efforts at the Bannock has reached my ears. The folk have naught but highest praises for you as such you are more than welcomed to one of the inn’s unoccupied rooms.”

“Oh? On whose orders?” she asked, doubting Gridanians’ hospitality towards formerly _falsely_ accused Garlean spies. 

The Elezen chuckled, “I’ve had one of the ladies bring in a tub and fresh supplies for the evening and there will be supper waiting for you after.” She waved over a barmaid carrying two buckets of steaming water. “Lena will show you to your room. Keep up the good work, you hear?”

“Thank you, Miounne,” Daniella remarked with a nod. “I have a message from the meadows.” She leaves the letter with the inn matron and follows Lena to her temporary sleeping quarters. 

As promised, a brass tub awaited her in the middle of the small room as well as a set of leather armor, leagues of improvement over the strips of cured hide clinging to her dirty body. The barmaid left the two buckets on the floor next to a side table with a tray of tiny soaps and washcloths. 

“Is the temperature to your liking, Mistress?” the cat-girl said with an interesting purr. 

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Daniella said and began to unstrap the buckles of her shoulder pad.

“Allow me, Mistress.” Nimble fingers unclasped the buckles swiftly without strain. 

When the shy barmaid slid the armor down her shoulders and her fingertips caressed exposed skin, the Paragon chuckled once through her nose then asked, “Does Miounne know you offer additional _services_ to her patrons?”

“Whatever do you mean, Mistress?” the girl replied, coy and unlaced the straps of the Paragon’s chest guard.

Daniella stepped back and bent a knee on a nearby chair to reach into her boots and pull out a stack of coins she collected from her work at the Bannock. “We can work out a deal,” she smirked and used her nervites to hover the gil above her palm while the girl’s greedy eyes ignored the foreign “magic”. “But I’m not looking for anything you’re used to selling.”

Lena said nothing, but the twitch of one of her ears spoke for her. 

Daniella cautiously pulled out one of the heavy coins from the bag and placed it on the wooden side table then unlatched her Biotech device and placed it down next to the coin. As she removed her boots she asked, “What do you know about the two investigators the Elder Seedseer hired?”

“ _The Sharlayans_?! Nothing. They barely talk to anyone, least, not anyone they think worthy of talking to.” The Paragon pursed her lips at the Miqo’te then dipped her chin at the coin. Lena snatched it with hurried hands and stuffed it into the pocket of her stained apron.

Daniella finished unlacing her chest piece, removed it, then stripped out the leather doublet as she said, “I need information… on the Elder Seedseer.”

With a hiss, Lena’s tail puffed and her ears flattened against her skull. “Spy on a Seedseer?! Are you mad or trying to get us both arrested?!”

“I was already arrested once,” she shrugged, “that’s how I got here. And I assume it’s not like your line of work won’t get arrested already?” 

“Nothing about what I do is illegal… but I need the extra gil to pay off my debts to the city. You have no right to judge, only the wretched Gods! ‘Tis their own doing I’ve lowered myself to nothing!”

“Why not find yourself a nice Elezen to take care of you? Or take up adventuring?”

“Easy to say, not so to do,” Lena huffed and crossed her arms while her tail flicked in agitation. “These Elezen would rather be sent to the gallows than be seen with one not their own and the rest of the lot follow suit to keep their noses where light doesn’t shine. As for adventuring, I wanted to become a conjurer, but I’ve seen what’s left of the guild’s poor sods when they return from the Twelveswoods. Men and women blinded by the dreams of fame and glory. Damaged souls from the things they’ve done and seen. Sometimes I mend the wounds not sealed by the conjurers and Seedseers.” She pointed to her head and heart. “Sometimes... they're rough, of which I pay no mind to, it helps them. Most are too broken to touch me, so I hold them, and let them cry until they can’t anymore.”

Daniella clicked her tongue, “I see...Well, as I said, I want what I want, and you're not offering.” 

The Miqo’te regained her air of innocence and left the room with a bow, leaving a tired Daniella to dump one of the buckets into the tub. She finished stripping out of her tattered armor, sunk tired bones into the warmth, and for the first time in the few days on the planet, was genuinely hopeful about finding her crew. Only for the feeling to evaporate when she remembered her meeting with Hydaelyn. _That’s no fucking easy task… and why did I have to ask her if Jordan’s alive? Ridiculous-I know he is!_ The warm metal of the tub pressed against her back when she reached behind herself for a washcloth and tiny soap. She scrubbed hard at days worth of dirt, grime, and dried blood until patches of red stained her tan skin then reached for the bucket of clean water. 

A loud bang on the door and Miounne’s shrieks interrupted the wonderful bath. “Ortega! I need to speak with you! Are you decent!?” 

Daniella grumbled then tipped the bucket over herself with one hand, unceremoniously swiped away the residual soap with the other, and called out for the matron to enter.

“Oh! Gods be good, pray forgive me!” Miounne gasped and clutched her chest with a trembling fist at the Paragon’s indecency as she tossed the empty bucket aside and climbed out of the tub dripping wet. The older woman turned her face away and said, “I have a mission for you. Suffice it to say, it is urgent!”

“Then skip the details!” Daniella urged with a grumble as she dried herself with a thin sheet and dressed in the fresh set of armor.

“The Ixal have amassed at the Guardian Tree! I sent word of the letter to Bowlord Lewin and a scout appeared with the troubling news.”

“Doesn’t he have his units there!?” Daniella snapped as she laced her boots. 

“Not enough, I fear-”

“No!” Daniella warned her with a pointed finger. “No, this is a Gridanian affair not mine! I’ve done what was asked of me, now the Elder Seedseer keeps to her word!”

“I beseech you,” Miounne pleaded, “I know not what your bargain with the Elder Seedseer is, but for the good of her people… _help us_. I have no doubt her ladyship will agree to any of your demands if you defend the sacred grove!” She took the Paragon’s silence as agreement. “Pray, place yourself wholly at the man’s disposal, I strongly suspect he will need all the able-bodied souls he can muster. The Guardian Tree is down the path, behind the meadows. Go swiftly!”

* * *

Daniella shadowed a unit of archers sprinting around the path behind the stables and was presented with a familiar young face among the defenders of the tree. Alfort’s eyes bulged out of his skull when she approached his crouched unit of guards.

“The Bowlord sent you, yes?” he asked, seemingly eager for her to be on the side of Gridania in facing the Ixal again.

“No, the innkeeper,” she muttered. 

Possibly unsure if she was joking or not Alfort clarified his excitement, “I-I did not believe you would aid us after… well after what happened in the Elder Seedseer’s grove. Either way, it’s good to have you with us, Paragon!”

“Save the praises. What’s the status of the tree?”

“The birdmen have completely surrounded the Guardian Tree, and their calls grow more urgent by the minute. Whatever it is they mean to do, we cannot let them go through with it. They must be stopped, no matter the costs!”

A rustling behind them caused her nervites to flare. Every Gridanian except Alfort jumped away from the menacing glow. “Fear not brothers and sisters,” he whispered to calm them, “the Paragon is on alert. My Lord Lewin.” He saluted the leader of the reinforcements and introduced Daniella to his superior officer. 

“This position is yours, Ortega,” the Bowlord ordered her after issuing out positions for Alfort and his unit.

“With all due respect sir, I need to remain mobile,” she countered.

Galfrid, appearing with a unit of adventurers, defended her protest and the Bowlord gave in to her request. The Ixali leader at the base of the tree signaled for his troops to investigate the movement of Lewin’s archers on the upper edge of the grove’s ridge.

Knowing the advantage of the first strike would be lost if they were discovered, Daniella activated her nervites and dove across the surface of the swamp to draw their attention with a gravity pulse. “Now!”

“Fire!” Bowlord Lewin commanded and the Paragon covered herself in a barrier. 

A volley of arrows rained death and chaos over the holy grounds as Garlfrid charged with his spearmen and volunteer fighters and the assault began.

Her nervites trickled down with every passing minute of combat. Blood rushed and pumped in her ears. Her targets’ movements were easy to predict when they had no idea of how to fight a Paragon. They were too obvious with the swing of their swords and spears. Every strike announced by a shill squawk or caw. They tried to change tactics and take her down from afar, but a push or pull of gravity ended that. Reflexes, nervites, and a childhood of training kept her clear of any injuries; the same could not be said of the other fighters. 

Minutes accumulated into hours and wave after wave, the birdmen fell, so too did a number of Eorzeans. The clear serene water surrounding the Guardian Tree became a pool of vibrant crimson and pale corpses. Daniella quietly and begrudgingly hoped Alfort hadn’t died and wasted her nervites healing him.

Eventually, the Ixali leader fell, the tree was safe, and the surviving Eorzeans began to push back the remaining invaders.

“Ortega!” an archer called to her, “Bowlord Lewin bids you defend this position. We go to bolster the left flank, where the battle yet rages.”

She nodded as he left. Her nervites pulsed as they calmed. Enough of them remained to fend off any Ixali stragglers. 

Not enough to defend from whatever or whoever crawled out of the hissing portal of black matter behind her.

The dark mage from her first encounter with Hydaelyn materializes from the portal and the two stand silent in the sacred grove as sounds of fighting in the distance ripple along the water’s edge.

“All of Gridania’s looking for you,” the Paragon said in a neutral tone.

“And I you,” he returned in kind and shook his hooded head, “Your very being imperils the plan. You cannot be suffered to live.”

Wisps of black and purple smoke and flames lifted from their palms as the plasma blade descended. The Paragon lunged forward to finish their fight. A roar and a blade slashed from the flames. Daniella reacted quickly enough to shape a barrier as a hard blow sent her flying backward and skidding in the water and mud.

She swiped mud from her eyes as a gargoyle creature beat its wings and roared at her again. To fight off the mage would have been a task on its own. To fight him and it’s minion seemed impossible with the low levels of her nervites.

By the mercy of her Creator, or as a cruel joke by Hydaelyn, a pair of reinforcements arrived. 

“I trust you won’t object to our assistance,” Papalymo asked smug and held his staff out ready for combat. 

Yda helped Daniella on to her feet. “Looks like you could do with a hand, Dr. Ortega!”

The mages dueled as the Paragon and hand-to-hand fighter dealt with the gargoyle. The plasma blade whined as the creature died and returned to stone and hummed in delight when it pierced through the dark mage. 

_“Who are you? Who sent you?! Itar? Idall?”_ Daniella demanded in her native language as she twisted the blade slowly between organs and bones. She knelt down with the slumping mage.

“That the wisdom of the Paragons should be brought low,” he sighed on his last agonizing breaths, “by mere mortals…”

Daniella lowered the body to the ground and ripped off the red mask. Like the rest of the humans of this planet, he looked Elysian, but what did he know about the Paragons? Did this planet have their own order? She cursed him and herself silently when the observant Lalafell asked, “Paragons? Similar to yourself, doctor?”

“No,” she replied, “my people don’t have magic. Who is he talking about?”

“Hm, I believe he may have been referring to The Bringers of Chaos… or Ascians, to give them their proper name. It would seem our suspicions were correct-it is they who have been manipulating the beast tribes.” 

“Before he summoned that _thing_ , he said my being ‘imperils his plan’. What plan?”

Before Papalymo had the chance to answer, the Bowlord and his surviving troops, along with Alfort, returned to the Guardian Tree. 

“Paragon, are you unharmed?!” the strangely worried young Elezen fused.

Bowlord Lewin knelt over the dead gargoyle, “Forgive me, Ortega. Had I known this creature was near, I would have _sent_ men, not called them away!”

_First, they wanna put me on trial, now they wanna put me in protective services…_

“It’s no trouble,” she said, “I believe this is your man wreaking havoc for your people.”

“Right!” Yda cheered with a little hop. “We finally got him!”

Papalymo adjusted his crooked monocle, then dipped his head in a bow and folded his hand behind his back as he reported, “we sensed an ominous presence, and came here as swiftly as our legs could carry us.”

 _You mean as fast as Yda’s legs could carry you._ Daniella bit the inside of her cheeks and tightened her jaw to resist the unsettling smirk from her awful teasing thought as the Bowlord thanked them then ordered his people to help the conjurers carry back the wounded and dead back to Gridania. A Seedseer different from the Elder or the one at Camp Tranquil issued the dying their last rights. 

Alfort lingered as his unit left. Pale-faced, paler than half of the bodies still left on the ground that his eyes traced as he approached the Paragon. 

“You… fought well,” he said softly. Almost too soft to hear clearly over the cries of dying men and women begging for home, lovers, families. 

“Is it yours?” her chin motioned to the streaks of blood on his armor.

He shook his head. His eyes were hollow and as distant as his voice; lost; trapped somewhere in the fighting still as his eyes scanned his surroundings like he just realized where he was. His Adam’s Apple bobbed before he asked, his voice not entirely his yet, “does it always _smell_ like this? After a battle?”

“Yeah,” the Paragon replied, her voice soft and empathetic, “it lingers for a while.” 

“I think it smelled like this when they attacked the caravan. I-I didn’t notice then. Not when my friends...when they were being slaughtered. I was so terrified and then when they said the Ixali were going to attack the tree, I thought I’d avenge their deaths.”

“Was ratting me out to the Elder Seedseer part of it?”

“I-yes,” he admitted with a ragged, shaky breath, “but I felt hollow then and still do now.” 

His eyes dropped to the broken, mangled body of an archer as a pair of conjurers carried it away. It could have been a very young boy; the chest guard they wore covered up any sign of breasts to tell if they were a woman, but their face was too feminine and delicate despite half of it missing.

Alfort twitched at the sound of another, choking on foamy blood from the two arrows in his chest. Through the gagging of blood, tears, and snots, he begged for a girl.

He sobbed for her once. Twice. Then the begging and choking stopped. 

“I… I didn’t know men died like that,” Alfort mumbled in a daze. “Bowlord Lewin said you played an instrumental role in the success of this mission. Up-upon your return to Gridania, pray visit him at Quiver’s Hold... that you may receive the thanks you are due.”

“I don’t need thanks.” She shook her head. “I only need the word to pass to the Elder Seedseer of what happened here.” He nodded numb and turned to leave, but Daniella quickly dug into her boots for the sack of gil and room key then called to him and tossed it.

He caught it with shaky arms, then asked, “‘Tis... for a drink?”

“No-don’t drink tonight or tomorrow night.” she said in her stern voice, “Not for a couple of weeks. When you get back to the city, I want you to go to the Carline Canopy and I want you to ask for Lena at the bar. Tell her I changed my mind about the deal then go to room three.”

“I-I don’t… understand,” he stuttered, broken and confused. 

“You tell her what happened here, and she’ll know what to do,” she commanded, then left him to kneel over the dead Ascian for a much-needed scan with her BioTech. Yda stretched bored and yawned. Daniella arched an eyebrow while she worked. “Still around, huh?” 

"Well, it's good to know what we’re up against, anyway. What’s the report, Doctor?”

“Nothing I'll be able to understand right away,” she said then added, “I appreciate the help back there.”

Papalymo nodded then hitched his shoulders when Yda hummed, “hmm… you’re probably wondering why we _always_ seem to appear when there’s trouble, right?”

Daniella wet her dry bottom lip and snickered, “ _Coincidence and timing_? Unless this is the part where you admit you’ve been stalking me?”

The younger woman giggled, “No, despite what it looks like, Papalymo and I are actually helping the Gridanias. And we’ve been doing so for a good few years too. 

“To whose chagrin?” 

Daniella smirked at the embarrassed Lalafell, who dropped his shoulders as his companion paid no attention to the jive “Oh! Did I mention that we’re not from around here?”

“Well, then we have that in common.”

“Anyway, all’s well that ends well. 

“Quite,” Papalymo nodded then turned his attention to Yda. “We’d best be on our way.”

“If you're heading back into Gridania,” the Paragon stood from her crouched position and asked with a hidden ulterior motive. “I hope you don’t mind the extra company.”

“Ah-no, we were not planning on returning to the city yet,” the Lalafell answered too soon.

“But Papalymo,” his unsubtle companion mumbled, “I thought you said-”

“That we were _returning_ to the Eastern Shroud-yes! That is indeed what I said!"

“ _Ohh!_ Yes, yes we were. Forgive us, doctor.”

The Paragon, whose training in subterfuge and diplomacy she passed effortlessly due to her family’s background, nodded and smiled, “well then, in any case, thanks again for the help.” 

The two bow and wave to her then quickly walked away in a direction clearly not East as Daniella tapped her BioTech’s database. As she typed, the dead Ascian’s body melted and morphed into a purple crystal then the mask and robe dissolved into smoke. She knelt down to scan the gem then entered it into a new sector of her database titled ‘HYDAELYN’ along with the entries:

‘PAPALYMO’

‘YDA’,

‘ASCIANS’

And reluctantly, and _terrifyingly_ , one last file titled ‘PARAGONS’. 

She grabbed the cruel crystal then silently mumbled the Elysian creed and dragged her weaking body back towards the forest city.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for checking out my story. I'm completely new to writing fanfiction, but I've been a reader for over 10 years. For the FFXIV fandom, I found very few stories that really captured my attention/reader preferences, so I decided to try my hand. I am very new to the game and will try to stick to the lore as much as possible. I am always opened to constructive criticism, please don't be shy about it. Comments & questions are highly encouraged. 
> 
> -E.K.


End file.
